Run Fast, Turn Left
by Car
Summary: Track and Field!AU- Arthur and Alfred are roommates and teammates at World U. As if school wasn't hard enough, they also have to deal with skin-tight uniforms, two hour long practices, classes, bus rides, and, oh yeah, falling in love with each other.
1. Man in Uniform

**Ages:**

Alfred- Freshman

Arthur- Sophomore

* * *

><p>"They consider <em>this<em> clothing? I've seen swim teams with more concealing uniforms than this!"

Arthur chuckled, flipping vacantly through his science notes as he sat atop the sink counter. Usually, his roommate would help him study, but apparently he was having a bit of a mental breakdown in the community bathroom, so that wouldn't be happening for a while.

"If it makes you feel better, the women's uniforms are equality revealing."

There was a short pause. "A little." Alfred was heard wiggling around in the stall, supposedly getting a feel for this new team uniform. "You have to wear this shit too, right?"

"Not quite. What you are wrestling with in there is called a speed suit, for runners that utilize speed. I run mid-distance, so I get the pleasure of wearing actual shorts... small as they may be."

Alfred's pout could practically be heard through the stall. "This sucks. How the hell am I even supposed to pee in this thing?"

"That, you will have to figure out for yourself." He placed his notebook on the sink and hopped off with a clap of his hands. "Alright, let us see."

"Dude!" Alfred exclaimed, "I'm not coming out wearing this!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm going to see you in it eventually. Come now, out you go."

The door to the toilet creaked open a few inches, just enough to reveal one bright blue eye and a flash of glass over it. "No one else is out there, right?"

"No."

"You didn't even check, you douche!"

The British boy rolled his eyes and looked both ways tiredly. "Still no."

The blue eye was joined by a bit of pink-tinged cheek. "Okay. Don't laugh at me!"

"Why on Earth would I laugh at you?" Arthur snapped. "It's a uniform, we all have to wear one and...and..."

His words died on his tongue as his younger roommate shuffled out of the stall, his face a bright red and his hands self-consciously hovering over his privates. "This thing leaves nothing to the imagination..." he mumbled, biting his lip and checking his reflection in the mirror.

It most certainly didn't, Arthur admitted to himself silently. He had seen more than his fair share of teammates in the rather unflattering World Academy speed suits, but before this they had all been, well, unflattering. Alfred, it seemed, was a different story.

His well-toned muscles, usually hidden under baggy sweatshirts or football padding, were on full display, the tight, stretchy fabric clinging to all the right places. If Arthur admitted that he thought the freshman was a pretty nice looking young man before, he was down right _appetizing_ now.

"I feel like the bottoms are going to ride up when I run," he was saying, now inspecting his (very, _very_ firm) backside in the mirror, a critical frown gracing his handsome features. "What sort of underwear am I supposed to wear in this?"

Arthur gulped. Alfred's underwear was not the road he wished to travel down right now. "W-what do you, um, usually wear w-when you run?" Arthur stuttered.

Alfred pursed his lips and looked to the ceiling in thought. "Boxer-briefs. But wont you be able to see the lines? I mean you can practically see the leg hair through these things!" He paused and looked back at the sophomore brightly. "Should I wear briefs, you think?"

Arthur blushed hotly, spinning around to face the door so Alfred couldn't see him. "Whatever you feel comfortable in, I suppose."

"Nothing about this thing will ever be comfortable," he grumbled.

Arthur rolled his eyes, willing his mind to focus on anything else but Alfred's... well, butt, so as not to create an awkward situation.

Which is, of course, when the three stooges decided to ruin his life once again.

"So I says to that bitch, I says 'Liz, if you want up on this you gotta-' Oh hey, lookin' good there, Golden Boy!" Gilbert exclaimed as he entered the bathroom, Francis and Antonio close behind. "Trying on the ol' uniform I see! Enjoying the show there, Artie?"

The roommates flushed, Arthur ducking behind his science notebook as Alfred (rather impressively) leaped back into his stall. The other boys laughed.

"Ah, _mon cher_!" Francis exclaimed, squatting down to peak under the stall door hiding the freshman. Alfred instantly squeaked and made to strike, though the pole vaulter expertly dodged the well-aimed foot to his grinning face. "There is no need to hide! You actually wear the uniform well!"

"_Si!_" Antonia agreed. The Spaniard was taking care of his business at the urinals, turning his head to smile at wall of the toilet stall. "You are pretty muscular, _amigo_. I would not be embarrassed at all if I were you! And I have been wearing that thing for years!" Francis nodded eagerly in agreement, now standing on the toilet in the stall to Alfred's right. He ducked down just as a fist flew by his head.

Gilbert cackled, ripping Arthur's science notebook from in front of his face and holding it above his head where he knew the shorter boy couldn't reach it. "Thank _Gott_ we're not sprinters, eh Art? I wouldn't be caught dead in that-" He paused, finally getting a good look at the Englishman's face. He grinned as the dots connected. "Yo Crumpet, you feeling okay?" he all but sang. "Your face seems kinda red."

"I'm just dandy thank you," Arthur grumbled, trying desperately to cover his face. "May I have my notebook, please?"

"I dunno," Gilbert mused. He placed a pale hand on Arthur's forehead, much to the younger boy's annoyance. "You feel warm. I think you've done enough _studying_ for today..._if you know what I mean._"

Oh, Arthur knew what he meant, and this knowledge did nothing but cause his face to go both hotter and redder.

Apparently done with urinating and creeping respectively, Antonio and Frances seemed to know exactly what Gilbert meant as well, joining the conversation with wide smiles.

"_Ay_, what are you studying, Arthur?" Antonio asked, not nearly as innocent as he seemed.

Francis threw an arm around his friend's shoulders, raising an eyebrow suggestively "_Human biology,_ perhaps?"

Face glowing, Arthur hauled off and punched Gilbert in the gut, snatching his notebook as he doubled over and waving it at threateningly at the other students. "BUGGER OFF! ALL OF YOU!"

Francis, Antonio and Gilbert fled the bathroom, laugher and a few hard wheezes trailing behind them in their wake. Arthur sighed in relief, checking his reflection in the mirror and fanning his (still quite red, unfortunately) face in hopes of cooling it down.

The lock on Alfred's stall door clicked and the boy stuck his head out, nervously glancing both ways before settling his gaze on Arthur. "Is the coast clear? I mean, I'm out of the uniform and stuff, but who knows with those guys, right?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, it's safe."

Alfred let out a breath and stepped back into the open, clad once again in his old baggy clothes. Arthur wasn't sure whether to be grateful or disappointed. "Thank God. Those guys are nice and all, but _man,_ do they creep me out sometimes!" He pushed the door open, allowing Arthur into the hallway first and following behind. "Hey Artie, what were they talking about with the human biology stuff? I thought you were in chemistry."

Arthur flushed, turning sharply into their room and falling face first onto his bed with a groan. Alfred blinked.

"I wont ask," he chucked, tossing his uniform back into his gym bag and closing the door behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>There you go! This fic is pretty much going to be a series of little one-shots following Arthur and Alfred's years in college together. It may time-jump a bit, but I'll always include what year the boys are in at the top so it's less confusing! :)<strong>

**I'm kind of a bit of a track nerd, so I promise you I will be throwing in random track lingo along the way. If you have any questions, please feel free to visit my tumblr (link in profile!) to ask, ask in the reviews, or send me a PM! I will be happy to answer any questions you may have! I ran track for 11 years and I'm a coach now so I know quite a bit. XD**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy! I'm very excited! **


	2. Rainy Day Race

**Arthur- Junior**

**Alfred- Sophomore**

* * *

><p>It was one of those days where no one wanted to be there.<p>

The air was cold, put in motion by an unforgiving wind and chilled by an absence of sun and an overabundance of clouds. The team was at debate whether the weather called for freezing rain or snow.

Arthur had woken up from his bus-ride nap in a particularly foul mood, matching those of the rest of his teammates, and Alfred began wondering if he was the only one left with a feeling of hopefulness.

"Quit smiling. There is nothing to smile about," Arthur snapped, ripping the skin of his orange off with a bit more force than what was entirely necessary.

Alfred shrugged. "I'm keeping my hopes up that it's gonna get canceled." He took a bite of banana. "Or at least delayed. I could deal with delayed."

The Englishman scoffed. "We shouldn't even be here. We haven't had a day off all season, the meet is far too far away, and everyone feels like rubbish. The coaches aren't even taking it seriously!"

Alfred nodded absentmindedly; he didn't want to be there either. The coaches had decided to make it relaxed week, every athlete competing in only one event, typically their favorite or best, and most likely a relay if they were usually a part of one. While this was supposed to lift spirits, the weather was not on their side.

"What race are you running today, anyway?" Alfred asked.

"1500," Arthur grumbled. Alfred rose his eyebrows in surprise.

"Isn't that your favorite?" he asked. "Thought you would be excited for that."

Arthur pouted. "Not today. The only thing that would make today not be a total waste is if the frog got struck by lightning mid-vault."

Alfred snorted. "He'll probably be inside all day, unfortunately."

A heavy sigh. "Another reason today is going to be dreadful."

O

"Don't die, Francis! Ow! Hey!"

Matthew rolled his eyes as Alfred rubbed the spot on his arm his twin had punched him. "Don't say stuff like that while he's pole vaulting," he sighed. "It's actually really dangerous."

"Frannie knows I'm just kidding. Don't ya, Frannie?"

The Frenchman chuckled, powdering his hands with chalk. "I am just happy to have an audience for once, _mon cher._" He did a once over of the rest of his team, confined indoors because of the weather, and shrugged. "Whether they want to be or not."

"Where's Arthur?" Matthew asked once Francis had gone to get in line. "I haven't seen him for a while."

Alfred shrugged. "He had to get his ankle taped, I think, so he went to find Coach."

His twin nodded, turning back to his homework and popping a donut into his mouth. Alfred couldn't help but be a little jealous of his twin, the boy was a triple jumper, which meant he was the first event and was done for the rest of the day. Alternatively, Alfred was running the anchor leg of the 4x400. He would literally be the very last person on the team to run that meet.

"I hate you, Matt."

"That's too bad."

"I wanna eat."

"So eat."

He groaned. "Like_ really_ eat. Like a burger or a donut or something, not just bananas and granola bars!"

"The fact that you think a burger or donut is _really _eating worries me."

Alfred moaned, falling backward dramatically and landing on a very surprised Lili.

She blinked down at him a few times before waving awkwardly. "Hello, Alfred."

Alfred smiled up at the freshman and waved back. "Sup, Lil? What are you running today?"

"Just the 100 hurdles," she replied sweetly. "Are you doing the 400 today?"

"4x4, but close enough!" He sat up and spun to face her, sitting cross legged on top of his coat. "When do you have to go warm up?"

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Right after the 1500. I was going to watch Lien and Arthur and then start." Alfred wrinkled his nose. Lien wasn't exactly his favorite person in the world. "Where is Arthur?" Lili asked. "Everyone has been warming up inside today. I hope he's not out there in the cold."

Alfred pursed his lips. He hadn't thought of that, actually. Arthur _was_ taking a while to get back inside from getting his ankle taped. It would be just like that little stinker to get himself sick running outside when he didn't have to. "Should I go check on him?" he asked.

Lili nodded and dug into her bag to pull out a bright pink umbrella. "You can use this if you would like," she offered.

Alfred grinned. "Only because it's totally my color."

To say Alfred was surprised to see an angry, drippy Englishman standing directly in front of him when he opened the gym doors would be an understatement.

"Well, howdy!"

"Bugger off."

Alfred laughed, closing Lili's umbrella and guiding Arthur back to camp with an unnecessary yet welcomed hand on his lower back. "Where were you, dude? People were getting worried."

Arthur began stripping off his soaked jacket, wincing as it fell to the floor in with a wet _plop_. "Gilbert decided to wait until the last bloody second to get _both_ of his ankles taped and I was forced to stand in the sodding rain because there wasn't enough room under the tent." He shivered. "Has Lien started warming up yet?"

He nodded. "She started a couple minutes ago. Hey, is Gil running the steeple today? How's he liking that?"

"Oh, he's having a jolly good time," Arthur scoffed. "Mental, that one."

Alfred laughed. Only Gilbert could find joy in hopping around in freezing water in the rain. "C'mon, I'll warm up with ya."

Arthur pinked slightly. "Will you? You don't run for hours."

"Exactly! I need to stretch my legs or I'll get stiff."

They ventured up the stairs to the small, three lane track that was wrapped above the gym and set their timers. Arthur's usual brisk jog morphed into a up-beat shuffle at best to Alfred's relief, so they were able to carry easy conversation.

"Blarge," Arthur grumbled pathetically. Alfred busted into laughter.

"Dude, what the hell was _that?_" he exclaimed. "I have never heard that sound come out of you before!"

Arthur sputtered, blushing, but turned his nose into the air and picked up his pace ever so slightly. "I'm just not in the mood for this, alright? Who would be? Look at it out there!"

He gestured to the window as they ran past, and Alfred just managed to catch of glimpse of Gilbert clearing a barrier on the backstretch. "I thought the whole cold and rainy thing was your kind of weather," he said with a smirk.

"Not to run in, you git," Arthur said, shaking his head.

They fell into comfortable silence as they jogged along, checking their watches every couple of minutes to see how much longer they had to run. After a while, they caught up to Lien, who was jogging and chatting with Mei, a sprinter who was most likely on her cool down from the 4x100 that had just finished judging by her wet hair and rosy cheeks. With a wolfish grin, Alfred yanked Lien's ponytail as they passed.

"Ow!" she exclaimed from behind them, just barely heard over Alfred's laughter and Mai's giggling. "Alfred Jones! _Lo dit!_"

Arthur rolled his eyes, trying and failing spectacularly to hide his disgust. "Must you flirt with Lien right before a race? She has enough to worry about." he grumbled.

Alfred's laughter died down as he looked over at his roommate with wide eyes. "Hey, hold up, I'm not flirting with her."

"Oh please."

"No, seriously!"

Arthur pursed his lips and picked up his pace once again. Alfred inwardly cursed, trying to match him in step. "Then what would you call all that teasing and playful bickering?"

"Exactly that!" Alfred sighed, exasperated. "Seriously bro, she drives me crazy. And _not_ in a good way!" he spat out as Arthur opened his mouth to argue his point. "I'm sure she's a nice girl but she...I dunno, she rubs me the wrong way, just like I do to her. No romantic feelings. Like, at all."

Arthur narrowed his eyes but seemed satisfied with that and dropped it...for now. Alfred released the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Finally the jogging was over and Alfred stood off to the side with Mai as Lien and Arthur went though their stretches, suddenly much more self-conscious of his interactions with the Vietnamese girl.

"What do you think the chances are that the meet will be canceled before I get to the start line?" she asked Arthur with a small smile. He laughed.

"Not as good as I wish they were, old girl."

Once it became time to go outside, Mai returned to camp and a half-finished romance novel, and the small group picked up Lili in return. Alfred grinned and offered the younger girl space under her own pink umbrella, which Lien promptly teased him for using. Alfred sent back an insult at her femininity half-heartedly in return, for some reason, really hoping Arthur had noticed how it lacked it's usual bite.

O

As Arthur and Lien approached the starting line, Alfred and Lili took a spot at the top of the last straightaway. Lien was called up up start the race, so Arthur went though his pre-race routine, trying to focus on the task at hand but finding it more difficult that usual.

He shouldn't have gotten cross with Alfre about his flirting the Lien. What a hypocrite he was! Why, if Alfred only knew what kind of _situations_ Arthur had gotten himself into his freshman year... well, who knew what he would think of him? He really needed to get emotions under control.

BANG

And apparently he _really_ needed to start focusing on this bloody race as well, seeing as the girls had just entered the bell lap. Frantically, he ran through the last bit of his stretches, pushing his wet hair from his face and re-lacing his spikes once more so they felt absolutely perfect around his feet. He noticed himself shivering, so he did a few sprints in the infield to keep himself warm.

Lien finished in fifth, panting and rubbing her bare arms with equally cold hands for warmth. Emma was at her side in a moment with a relatively dry blanket and her relatively dry warm-ups. Arthur bit back the jealousy that no one was keeping _his_ warm-ups dry for him and forced a smile to his face instead.

"How was it?" he asked sympathetically.

The girl simply stared back at him, completely exhausted and physically shivering. She shook her head miserably. Arthur winced.

A minute later the last of the girls finished, and Arthur found himself on the start-line cold, wet, and not at all prepared. The gun was shot before he even had a chance to think to himself how _little_ he wanted to do this, and he was off. The nice thing about running, though, was that as soon as this was over, the pain and suffering of the race would be more or less completely repressed in his psyche, and he could forget it ever happened.

The race started off completely normal, the runners were clumped together around the first curve, fighting for second because no one wanted to lead the group through the wind and rain. Arthur kept himself at third; he wanted to be close enough to the front to make a move when the time was right, yet far enough away that the wind and rain wouldn't assault his body.

"Go Arthur!"

"C'mon Artie, you got this! Relax your arms, widen your stride!"

He peeked to the infield, his eyes instantly landing on the bright pink umbrella sheltering Lili and Alfred from the rain. Lili clapped politely next to the screaming Alfred, who was using the arm that was not holding the umbrella in place to motion how Arthur should be moving his arms. He nodded and forced himself to relax; Alfred beamed.

The gap between the runners increased the next lap. Arthur passed the bloke in front of him, but was immediately passed by someone else in return. He focused on keeping his stride fast and relaxed, his arms loose and his breathing even. As he turned the curve, he kept his eyes trained on the pink dot at the top of the next turn, using it as his own personal goal. Just focus on reaching that umbrella; focus on reaching Alfred.

He was sure Lili must have cheered as he passed, but her voice was heavily outweighed by the American at her side.

"Let's go Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed. "You can catch that guy, Artie! I _know_ you can! You better be _on his ass_ the next time you come around! _Go!_"

Arthur narrowed his eyes determinedly, resolute not to let Alfred down. Alfred thought he could catch the guy in front of him, Alfred _told him_ he could do it.

His third lap was a blur, Arthur's entire focus was on closing the gap between himself and number two. He managed to pass him right at the start line, woken from his determined haze by the sounding of the gun lap. He hadn't even realized he had already passed the pink umbrella, and he wondered briefly what advice Alfred had supplied him with that time.

With one lap to go, Arthur gave himself a mini pep-talk to _finish_. That was all he had to do. 400 meters stood between him and the chance to _stop_, the chance to go back inside, wrap himself in a blanket, and read until it was time to cheer on Alfred. All he had to do was bloody_ finish_.

He figured the leader was too far off for him to catch, but thankfully the one he has just passed was close enough to keep the fire lit.

He just kept his eyes trained on the the pink umbrella.

O

Alfred was hopping around from foot to foot as he followed Arthur with his eyes. Poor Lili was left to hold on to the umbrella when Alfred let it go and sprinted to the edge of the track, the rain and wind be damned. Arthur could totally catch the guy in first! The dude had a freaking awesome kick when he wanted to, though he often thought so little of his own abilities he didn't utilize it. Alfred clenched his fists, determined to get Arthur that first place.

Arthur was tired, that much was obvious, and Alfred could tell that the leader was the last thing on his mind. He kept at a good pace, however, fast enough to stay ahead of the guy behind him, but slow enough that the wind wouldn't be too much of an issue. Alfred bit his lip, he had a bad feeling that guy behind him was only letting Arthur block the wind.

Alfred cupped his hands around his mouth, leaning just enough over the track that he wouldn't get in the runner's way. The guy in first passed him, huffing and puffing, obviously running only on fumes to get to the finish line.

"He's tired, Artie! He's tried!" he exclaimed, meeting Arthur's eyes somehow. "Kick it in, buddy! You got this! Catch that guy!"

Arthur passed him with a small, barely noticeable nod. Alfred smiled.

"And don't let that guy use you to block the wind!" he called as an afterthought. The guy behind Arthur coughed.

Alfred took off across the track to meet Arthur at the other side of the curve, at the end of the last straight-away. Lili followed behind, squeaking every few seconds when the wind got caught up in her umbrella, but she was the last thing on Alfred's mind. The gap was quickly closing between the top two runners, and Alfred crossed his fingers that Arthur had a faster sprint.

"Stay strong, Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed, even though he wasn't entirely sure Arthur could even hear him. He was "in the zone", and Alfred knew as well as anyone that a nuclear bomb could go off and Artie wouldn't hear it, all of his focus was on that finish line 100 meters away. Not that that would stop him from cheering of course. "Less than 100 left, buddy, you got this! You can catch him!"

Other athletes were running to the track to cheer on the runners, as is custom when there is any kind of close finish, so Alfred had to push through clusters of people to even get next to the track once again as he ran to watch the finish. His eyes never left Arthur, whose face had taken on a determined, stubborn, yet pained look. He found himself next to Gilbert about ten meters from the finish line and together they cheered for Arthur to sprint, run faster, and, in Gilbert's case, not to be a pussy.

Finally the two athletes crossed the line and finished the race, hunched over and panting, despite knowing damn well they were making it harder for themselves to breathe. Coach Germania rushed to Arthur, patting his back and handing him a cup of water.

"Did I get him?" Arthur asked between breaths as he was guided of the track.

Germania, never one to beat around the bush, shook his head. "He got you at the very end." Arthur cursed and crumpled up his paper cup, tossing it into a garbage can. "But," the coach continued, "you got a PR."

Arthur was in the process of slipping on his (now soaking) warm ups, and instantly perked up. "I did? What was it?"

"4:07:76."

Arthur's eyes widened comically. "Bugger off!"

Germania shook his head, but smiled knowingly. "That ranks you, oh, I would say, _first_ for conference." Arthur's face broke into a huge smile before finally catching up with the weather around him and sneezing. Germania sighed. "Now get your ass inside and cool down, you'll do me no good to conference if you're sick."

"Y-yes sir," Arthur gathered up his things and rushed off toward the gym.

"Arthur!"

"Alfred? Oof!" Arthur coughed, as Alfred trapped him in a tight hug. "What on earth are you doing, you twat?" he exclaimed.

Alfred laughed. "Dude, that race was awesome! It sucks you didn't get him at the end, but Coach G. said you got a PR! Way to go, man!"

Arthur blushed, brushing his wet fringe out of his eyes. "Ah- well, it's nothing..."

"Dude! You dropped like five seconds! That's _awesome_!"

The older boy blushed even deeper, wringing his pants in his hands nervously. "W-why don't we head inside to finish this discussion," he said softly. "I'm quite cold."

"Oh! Shit, sorry man, c'mon let's head in. I'll cool down with ya, okay?"

They jogged into the warm building together, sighing contently when the rush of warm air hit them. Matt, Francis, and a few other athletes asked how the race went and offered their congratulations as Arthur stripped himself of his wet uniform. Unbeknownst to Arthur, Alfred blushed softly as Arthur's skin was revealed.

"Let's jog to the bathroom so I can change my shorts," Arthur muttered. "I feel like I'll never be warm again."

Once Arthur was changed, the boys continued their cool-down, jogging around the elevated track Arthur had warmed up on before the race. They kept a fairly compatible silence, broken finally by a sudden cough from Arthur.

"You okay?" Alfred asked. "Coach is gonna kill you if you're getting sick."

Arthur shook his head and cleared his throat. "I just...I wanted to, you know... thank you."

Alfred blinked. "Huh? Thank me for what?"

"You know," he sighed. "Cheering for me during the race. I don't think you understand how much your cheering and advice helps me. I wish I could have caught him at the end, but...well..." Arthur trailed off, not quite ready to admit how upset with himself he was at letting Alfred down.

The younger boy grinned. "You actually heard me? Sweet! I thought you didn't! Like you were all focused and stuff."

"Well I was," he chuckled. "But you tend to be hard to ignore." Alfred grinned.

"Glad I could help, then!"

They finished up with the cool down (about ten minutes short of the twenty minutes they were supposed to run), and went back to camp so that Arthur could grab some food and Alfred could continue to wait until the end of the meet to run, much to Arthur's irritation. They had just nearly settled in when the door to the gym busted open, allowing an angry Mathias to stomp through.

"_Det ver noget pjat!"_ he exclaimed in loud, angry Danish. "What a joke! I was _on_ the start-line! _On top of it!_"

Everyone at the WU camp (as well as a few other school's camps) turned to look at him, surprised. Kiku followed him soon after, much more quietly, and covered head to toe with a bight yellow poncho.

"The meet has been canceled," he explained, taking off his hood as he walked up to his teammates. "Right as the 800 was about to start, they spotted lightening. The coaches said to start packing up."

A chorus of relieved sighs and whoops of joy spread from the camp as athletes started packing up blankets, books, and bags. Alfred, in particular, seemed especially joyful, grabbing his brother's head under his arm and hugging it tightly, ignoring his wiggling and punching.

Arthur, however, was not nearly as pleased.

"The meet is _what?_" he exclaimed. "They've canceled it now? _Now?_ I've already bloody ran!"

Alfred laughed heartily, throwing an arm over his distressed roommate's shoulders. "Look on the bright side, we get to go home!"

Arthur glared. "I'm done for the day! It doesn't even matter!"

"You got a PR?" Alfred offered lamely. Arthur's glare intensified. "I'll let you watch a movie on my laptop during the ride home?"

"I get to pick it," he grumbled. "And there will be no complaining from you. Even!" he exclaimed as Alfred opened his mouth to protest. "Even if it's one of my, and I quote, 'totally boring-arse romanic comedies.'"

Alfred stuck out his tongue. "Fine. I don't know why you even bring those stupid DVDs with you to every meet. Rome will never let you show them on the bus."

"Because they are lovely and I enjoy them," he replied simply, throwing his gym bag over his shoulder. "Come now, let's go get this movie started. We only have 4 hours to kill until we get back home."

Alfred sighed, despite the small, amused smile that snuck to his lips. "Oh goodie, can't wait."

* * *

><p><strong>Little bit longer than the other one with a little bit more running! This was based on an actual meet I went to my senior year of college where the weather was awful and it was canceled right after I had ran. XD I was so pissed. <strong>

**Again! There's some track lingo in this that may be confusing to those who have never ran track before, so if you have any questions, feel free to ask! My tumblr is seecarrun (link in profile), and I'm on there quite a bit, so feel free to contact me though there with questions if you don't want to ask them on here!**

**A few notes: PR = Personal Record; 1500= 3 and 3/4 laps; 4x4 = 4 people each running a lap in a relay.**

**Hope you enjoyed, and have a great day! :D -Car**


	3. Absentminded Arthur

**Alfred- Freshman**

**Arthur- Sophomore**

* * *

><p>He was going to <em>kill<em> him.

And not in a nice way either. Arthur was going to kill him slowly and painfully, maybe even publicity. And then he would record it so that he could watch it over and over again. He might even sell copies.

No, even that was too kind. Alfred deserved so much worse for the embarrassment he had put Arthur through.

A couple of girls passed him on the sidewalk, giggling into their hands. Arthur sent them running with a venomous growl and continued his trek across campus.

It started with a simple visit from Matthew.

"Hey Arthur," he said happily once Arthur had opened their dorm door. "Is Al in? I wanted to remind him it's Mom and Dad's anniversary and he shoul- oh!" He coughed and plugged his nose. "What is that _smell?_"

Arthur rolled his eyes and opened the door wider, allowing Matthew to hesitantly peak inside. "Alfred hasn't washed his bloody practice uniform in weeks," he grumbled, kicking at the pile of sweaty, festering pads and uniforms. "I try to keep the window open, but it's getting awfully difficult to ignore the smell."

"I noticed." Matthew's nose crinkled and he quickly ducked his head out of the doorway, offering his twin's roommate a pitying smile. "He always left his football stuff laying around at home too. I'll tell Mom to rip him a new one when I call, okay? She's pretty good at getting him to do stuff."

"Thank you, that would be lovely," Arthur sighed. "I'll tell Alfred you were by when he gets back."

Matthew thanked him and headed off to class, leaving Arthur and the pile of laundry to themselves. Usually he could ignore it, as one could ignore anything they were around for extended periods of time, but anytime he was reminded of it, it was like he was smelling it for the first time and it took all of his self-control not to gag every time he took a breath.

He eyed the pile wearily. "I'm not going to wash you," he told it sternly. "You are Alfred's responsibility; he is never going to learn to be a responsible adult if he doesn't take care of his own things."

The pile remained as silent and smelly as ever. Arthur cringed.

"Then again, there is no reason that _I_ should have to suffer for Alfred's laziness." He bit his lip. "B-besides, it's not like I would do it for _him_, I'm just sick of living in filth," he assured himself. "And once I find out if he does, in fact, know how to work a washing machine, I'll just make him do my laundry to make it up to me! Brilliant!"

Arthur gathered up Alfred's things into the boy's very much unused hamper, grabbed his detergent, and slipped his feet into his fuzzy, pink slippers (a gag gift from his eldest brother, but hey, they were warm and he would only be out of the room for a moment), and dragged the dirty clothes to the elevator. Luckily he didn't have class for a few hours, so if he hurried, he should have had time to start the washer, change out of his pajamas, wash up, grab a bite to eat from the student center, and put everything in the dryer before he had to go to class.

Thankfully the laundry room was empty when he got there, and Arthur was able to toss Alfred's football gear into his usual washer and shuffle out without too much time wasted. He set his watch for a half hour so he would know when the washer was finished and returned to the elevator. He grabbed his keys and-

Keys.

_KEYS. _

Arthur felt the color drain from his face as the panic set in. He instantly began pulling at the pockets of his pajama pants, checked the bottom of the hamper, and even peaked down his shirt to see if the lanyard was slung around his neck- all to no effect.

Tossing the hamper aside, he sprinted back to the laundry room as fast as his slippered feet could carry him, desperately looking for his keys on the ground along the way. His mind began constructing various scenarios to explain the whereabouts of his keys; he left them on top of the washer, he accidentally threw them _in_ the washer, he dropped them on the floor and due to a series of unforeseen events, ended up kicking them under the vending machine.

A quick up-turning of the laundry room, his washer included, turned up empty, and Arthur knew he had to face facts. He had left his keys in his room, and thanks to World U's extreme security measures, he couldn't even get in the elevator or stair-well without them.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur leaned against the wall; he didn't even think to bring his cell phone with him.

He was going to have to go find Alfred to get his spare key.

He was going to have to _walk across campus_ to find Alfred _in his pajamas_.

His unicorn-patterned flannel pants, Drive Shaft band t-shirt, fuzzy, pink slipper _pajamas_.

Fuck.

Arthur was brought back to the present by the howling laughter of one of his soccer (_proper_ football) mates who received a violent slap with a slipper for his troubles, and continued his stalking across the quad. Despite the hoots and hollers and a very distinctive cat-call that sounded way too Elizabeta-like for comfort, the Student Activity Center came into view.

Arthur sighed and picked up his pace, the sooner this was over the better.

O

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Alfred got breakfast with a few of his football friends after his early morning class. Every once in a while they were joined by a roommate or girlfriend, but for the most part, it was just the four of them; eating too much, speaking too loud, and making too much of a mess.

"I'm telling you," Travis, the school's quarterback, grumbled around his muffin, "Professor Dobler is a total man-hater. I had my girlfriend do my work cited page for me, right? She gave her an A, and I got a freaking D+! It was the same damn work cited!"

"So call her out on it," Alan, a linesman, said with a shrug.

Alfred shook his head. "Dude, then she'll just get him expelled for cheating or something." Alfred slurped at the milk at the bottom of his cereal bowl and sighed. "I don't get _how_ Arthur liked her."

Travis opened his mouth to make some comment about Arthur being every English teacher's wet dream or something, when his eyes landed on something over Alfred's shoulder and he snorted into his orange juice.

"What?" Alfred asked as the others turned around and instantly broke into loud and long laughter. Even the stoic Berwald, a fellow running back and 400 runner, cracked a smile and chuckled. Alfred slammed his spoon down into his bowl. "What the fuck, guys?"

"Yer wife is 'ere," Berwald mumbled, causing the others to laugh even louder and Alfred's pout to intensify.

Okay, he was used to Arthur being called his wife. His teammates knew of Alfred's ridiculous little crush on the English sophomore, and Arthur was just as well known for both his soccer and track abilities as he was for his love of embroidery and baking and unicorns to get a certain kind of reputation. But they never outright laughed him! Sure, he was a bit of a stick in the mud at the best of time, but he was still a respected, well-liked guy, and this was totally uncalled for.

"And he looks pissed!" Alan exclaimed. "Looks like Al's sleeping on the couch tonight!"

"Seriously, fuck you guys," he grumbled, turning around to welcome his roommate. "Sup, Artie? Decide to join us this mor-"

And he froze.

As his roommate, Alfred knew very well what liked to Arthur sleep in. He _also_ knew very well that if he told a soul that Arthur Kirkland had an entire dresser drawer devoted entirely to unicorn-themed sweatpants, he would die a slow and horrible death.

Which is why it took a moment for his mind to compute that Arthur, _his Arthur, _always proper, perfectly groomed, never seen without a sweater-vest and khakis _Arthur,_ was currently tearing through the SAC, looking positively ready to kill, _in his pajamas. _

"_Artie?_" he exclaimed.

Arthur stomped directly up to Alfred, and shoved a finger into his face, causing the young man to squeak and jump back in his chair.

"This is all your fault!" he snapped.

Alfred gulped and leaned back, and honestly, if he wasn't fearing for his life he probably would have laughed at his ruffled little roomie. "What did I do?" he exclaimed. "And why are you in your pajamas?" he couldn't help it, a small smirk peaked through.

Arthur puffed himself up even more, his eyes narrowing into vicious green slits. "I am wearing my pajamas, _Alfred_, because I locked myself out of the room doing _your_ laundry!"

"W-what?" Alfred stuttered, flushing red. He heard one of his (traitor) friends snicker behind him. "W-why were you doing my laundry?" he cried. Arthur crossed his arms with a huff.

"Because it was smelling up our entire room, you git!" Arthur was blushing a bit now at this point as well, probably realizing how what he said had sounded, and just how many people were now listening in.

"Just give me the bloody keys!" he grumbled quickly, snatching Alfred's keys from the table and storming back out as intimidatingly as one could in pink fuzzy slippers. He stopped once, turning around on his heal and glaring at Alfred's shocked face. "Mathew stopped by," he said curtly. "It's your parent's anniversary. He wants you to give them a ring."

At that, he spun back around and stormed through the crowds of people. Someone whistled at him on his way out the door and was promptly punched in the gut, falling to the ground with a cry of pain. Alfred cringed and turned back to his friends.

Travis was grinning obnoxiously. "Are you_ sure_ you guys aren't married?" Alfred tossed his spoon at Travis's head and took a big, disgruntled bite from his donut. He willed his blush to disappear with little effect.

"I hate you guys."

* * *

><p><strong>A little less running and a little more dorm life! Poor Arthur. XD This happened to me multiply times when I was in college. XD I remember taking out the garbage once and forgetting my keys, so I had to stalk across campus with no shoes, no bra, no makeup and my hair a positive rats nest to find my roommate. I'm absentminded too, Artie, no worries!<strong>

**Yes, when it's not track season, the boys are in their respective footballs! I have a bit of a sports kink if you can't tell. XD And yes, even the football team can tell Alfred and Arthur are totally crushing on each other. XD Poor boys are so oblivious. **

**Anyway, hope you liked this chapter! :) And thank you all for the great reviews, they truly help me crank these out faster! *hugs all***


	4. Wheels on the Bus

**Alfred- Sophomore**

**Arthur- Junior**

* * *

><p>Alfred's favorite part of any track meet was the bus ride home.<p>

Sure, meets are fun in their own way, but nine times out of ten the weather was cold or rainy or windy, or he would spend all day hungry and tried and (though he would never admit it out loud) nervous for his upcoming races.

No, it was the wave of relaxation he was allowed to feel as soon as he got on that coach bus; the finally he felt as soon as he tucked his bag into the overhead compartment and rested his head against the cool window. All he had to do for the next three hours was sit on his ass, watch some ridiculous movie Coach Rome decided to put on, and share a junk pizza with Arthur.

Which of course, brought him to the other reason he enjoyed the ride home so much.

Arthur trudged onto the bus, tossing his own bag next to Alfred's in the overhead once he had taken out his psychology book. Alfred smirked, Arthur kept that book out every week, despite never actually doing any studying.

"More psych homework?" he asked.

Arthur scoffed, sitting next to Alfred in the aisle seat. "But of course, why on earth wouldn't I have an ungodly amount of homework in psychology every bloody weekend?"

Alfred chuckled, tempted to make a snappy comment about getting it done on the bus that morning, but held back. For you see, despite popular misconceptions, Arthur Kirkland was very much _not_ a morning person. Every Saturday morning, Arthur would drag himself out of bed with just enough time to throw on his uniform, fill up his water bottle and slip his running spikes into his bag before dragging himself out the door to catch the bus.

Alfred, who had been up for well over an hour and a half at this point in order to shower, make himself some breakfast, brush his teeth and pack his bag, always found this hilarious. He would sit at his counter and watch Arthur drag himself around their apartment, bumping into things and cursing at them, and together they would walk out to the bus. Once there, Arthur would shove a granola bar into his mouth, pop his iPod into his ears, and conk out once again until they reached the meet.

To be honest, Alfred was actually pretty impressed with that. About an hour into their drive, Coach Germania always put on some super loud "motivational" movie to wake everyone up and get them pumped up for the meet, and yet Arthur was somehow able to sleep through it. Thankfully, Arthur was apparently well rested from all of his sleep in the morning, and never slept on the bus ride back.

Just another reason to love the ride home.

"So, how did the races go today?" he asked casually.

"The 800 went well," Arthur sighed, "Not a PR, but better than last week at least."

"Well that's good! How about the 1500?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I didn't run the 15 today... Do you even watch me race?" he exclaimed.

Alfred cringed. Whoops. "Of course I do, Artie! I just loose track of how many laps you do and stuff!" Arthur didn't look very convinced. "W-what were you running with all the laps today then?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed even more. "I ran the open 800 and the 4x800 today Alfred; both of which only involve two laps."

"Y-yeah, well, you know how I am," Alfred laughed pathetically, "any more than one lap and I lose count! Hahaha..." Thankfully satisfied with that, Arthur turned his attention to flagging down a pizza and Alfred sighed in relief.

Arthur really had no idea, did he? Of course Alfred watched him race! He never missed a single one! He just got... distracted sometimes. It was just... well... Arthur looked good while he ran, okay? Like, _really_ good. Strong and smooth and completely in the zone; Alfred had never seen someone as light on their feet as Arthur while he ran. It really was a sight to see.

The fact that he wore those cute little shorts didn't hurt either. Arthur had some _nice_ legs.

Sometime during his musing, Arthur had managed to secure a supreme pizza and Alfred thanked the heavens for the change in conversation as the two chowed down.

"My races went well today," Alfred said between chewing with a smirk. "Thanks for asking."

Arthur tutted. "I am aware, _I_ watch your races. Unlike someone I know."

...Goddammit.

"I did watch you!" he exclaimed. Alfred slammed his head into the back of the seat in front of him with a frustrated groan. Thankfully, the older boy simply chuckled and continued nibbling at his slice of pizza.

As the pizzas were passed around the bus, Alfred let his mind wander even deeper to the area reserved especially for his British roommate. See, Alfred had this dream. A dream that had rather consumed his mind for the better part of two years.

He and Arthur would be sitting next to each other, but instead of the short, soft touching of coat sleeves on their shared arm rest like usual, Arthur's head would be nestled comfortably on his shoulder, and his own head would be rested atop his. Alfred's hand would be holding Arthur's hand on Arthur's left knee, and they would talk in quiet, intimate whispers to share jokes or secrets or simply sweet nothings.

Sitting like that, wrapped up in each other, they would watch the stupid movie Rome put on and eat their pizza. Arthur would make his usual biting comments (unless, of course, it happens to be a British film of some kind) and Alfred would roll his eyes and tell Arthur to just watch the movie, for fuck's sake. Eventually, though, they would lose interest in the movie and gain interest only in each other.

Alfred would tell Arthur he ran awesome that day, and through his stuttering denial and blush, Arthur would tell Alfred the same. They would then kiss; nothing frantic or needy, because they had been kissing for a while now and it was nothing new, just a simple kiss that Arthur would end with that soft, sweet smile that was reserved for only special occasions. They would then settle back to their little embrace for the rest of the trip, ignoring the cat-calls and joking exclamations to 'get a room' by their teammates, because those had been going on just as long as the kissing.

Okay yeah, it was a cheesy dream, but it was all Alfred had so shut up.

"Oh, looks like Elizabeta has brought treats this week."

Alfred snapped out of his daydream at the sound of Arthur's voice and cleared his throat. "O-oh yeah! Lookit that!" he exclaimed just a bit too loudly. Arthur rose an eyebrow quizzically.

"Yes, anyway..." he trailed off. He turned to Elizabeta with a smile as she walked down the aisle holding a large, rectangular tin. "Hello love, what have you brought for us this week?"

The Hungarian smiled, pulling a chocolate chip cookie from the tin and waving it around. "Actually, Emma made them! Her mother sent her some chocolate from home, so you know they must be good! She just asked me to pass them out because she has psychology homework to do."

Alfred grinned at Arthur who turned away from him with a huff. "Sounds good, Liz! Hit me!"

"Yes, please do," Arthur mumbled. Alfred pouted, but Elizabeta just laughed and handed them each a large cookie.

"Oh, you two are just adorable!"

Arthur scoffed. "D-don't say such foolish things."

"It's not foolish if it's true!" she sang, her wicked eyes never leaving Alfred's horribly blushing face. The girl had a freaking sixth sense for the team's crushes apparently, and was able to pick up on Alfred's crush on Arthur from pretty much the moment they met. She delighted in making him miserable over it almost as much as she delighted in trying to hook them up.

Despite his blush, Alfred grabbed for his cookie and took a disgustingly large bite. "Fanks Efifavifa!"

Arthur scrunched his nose up in disgust but rolled his eyes and nibbled at his cookie anyway.

"No problem, boys!" she chirped, and turned around to offer Toris and Feliks across the aisle a treat as well.

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief, checking out of the corner of his eye that Arthur was fully absorbed in watching Rome fight with the bus's DVD player and eating his cookie before turning back to Elizabeta. As predicted, she was giving him another look over her shoulder.

"Make a move!" she mouthed, practically throwing a cookie at Toris. The Lithuanian squeaked and dove to catch it just in time.

Alfred bit his lip and shrugged back, hoping she understood that if he knew _how_ to make a move, he would have _done so_ by now.

Luckily for him, it seemed she did, and she sighed dramatically as she offered a cookie to Ludwig and Feliciano, who were seated behind them. To Ludwig's horror, she draped herself over his shoulder with an exaggerated yawn and wink. Alfred rose an eyebrow in disbelief.

"That will never work," he mouthed, shaking his head and nodding in Arthur's direction. Elizabeta waved him off.

"Just try," she replied silently and spun on her heel to feed the rest of the bus. Alfred blew a puff of hair through his bangs in irritation.

Why was it that people seemed to conveniently forget just who he was trying to woo whenever they told him to "just try." there was no "trying" with Arthur Kirkland. In fact, Alfred would even go as far to say that the famous words of Yoda should be tattooed on the guy's freaking forehead: "Do or do not. There is no try."

There were two possible outcomes to pulling The Move on Arthur Kirkland. 1) he could totally accept it, turn to face him with that adoring, lovesick look in his eyes and they could ride off into the sunset together forever, or 2) he could shriek, punch him in the balls, and kick him out of the apartment for the rest of the year.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Alfred spared one last look at Elizabeta, who was holding her tin away from a particularly hungry looking Gilbert with one hand, and making a cutthroat motion across her neck at him with the other, and groaned. If there was one thing he feared more than his adorable little roommate it was Elizabeta Hedervary, and there was no telling what that woman would do if he didn't at least _attempt_ The Move.

To his left, Arthur tsked at Rome's failing attempts at getting the DVD player to work. Finally, Germania called a stone-faced Kiku up to fiddle around with it, and he managed to get it working in a matter of minutes, to Rome's delight.

"I don't understand why he didn't do that in the first place," Arthur sighed, finishing off his cookie and licking the chocolate off his fingers in a way that _had_ to be illegal in most countries. Alfred gulped.

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, honestly. He wastes a solid half an hour poking around at the bloody thing, and then when we don't finishing the movie, he pouts about it for a week. Don't you agree? Alfred?"

Alfred snapped out of his Arthur-licking-his-fingers-sexually zone and cleared his throat. "O-oh yeah, totally."

He was going to kill Liz. That cookie was totally her fault and now she expected him to make The Move with Arthur all licking himself like that? Not likely, Liz. NOT LIKELY. Unfortunately, she was distracted talking to Tino and Berwald in the back of the bus, so he couldn't glare his anger at her like he wanted, but he made a mental note to do so once she walked by again.

Arthur wiggled around in his seat a little before sighing heavily and pushing his neglected psychology book aside. "I wonder what mindless drivel Rome brought for us to watch this week," he grumbled. Alfred smirked.

"He is never going to play one of your movies, dude."

"W-who said I want him to, you git?" Arthur snapped back with a pout. "I only bring them i-in case we don't have anything else to watch!"

Alfred snickered, but stayed safely silent. As fun as pushing Arthur's buttons was, if he didn't make some kind of advance on him soon, Liz was probably going to kill him. He peaked over his shoulder quickly, relieved to find the girl still busy with their other teammates.

Arthur was now staring stubbornly at the tiny television suspended from the roof of the bus a few seats in front of them with a small frown on his handsome face. His arms were crossed stiffly across his chest, but Alfred could tell he was starting to drop the whole grumpy-gus act by the way they were relaxing as the previews played loudly from the speakers. Alfred loved how easily Arthur always forgave him.

He took a deep breath, here went nothing.

"Aww, turn that frown upside-down!" Alfred chirped, tossing a friendly arm around Arthur's shoulders and tousling his hair. "We'll watch_ Love Actually_ when we get back to school, how about that?"

Arthur squeaked and pushed Alfred's hands away from his hair. "Let go of me, you oaf!" he cried. Arthur flushed lightly, running his fingers through his hair, trying and failing to make any sort of sense of it. He seemed to settle down then, biting his lip and pointedly adverting looking at his younger roommate. "And_ fine_. But you have to stay awake for the entirety of the film this time! _Not _just for the naked parts!"

Alfred grinned and pulled Arthur a little closer to his side, still not able to believe he hadn't tried to pull away. "Deal! I'll even read all those subtitles this time!"

"You are hopeless," Arthur said with a sigh, though if Alfred didn't know any better, he would totally swear he saw a little smile. "Now do shut up, the drivel is starting."

Alfred beamed, both because Arthur had yet to free himself from the arm Alfred had draped around his shoulders, and because, with a yawn, the older boy had comfortably rested his head on Alfred's own left shoulder.

Alfred knew his face was probably about as red as a freaking tomato, but at that moment he couldn't care less. Arthur was resting his head _on his shoulder_! His arm was a_round Arthur's shoulders_! And while there was no sweet nothings or little kisses, it was the closest to his little bus fantasy Alfred had even gotten and he was not about to ruin it for himself now.

"Wake me up if I fall asleep, would you lad?" Arthur mumbled into the crook of Alfred's shoulder.

"You never fall asleep on the way home," Alfred replied with a chuckle.

"Well, I'm bloody comfortable," Arthur grumbled back.

Alfred smiled goofily, not even regretting it when Elizabeta practically skipped passed them down the aisle, a huge, obnoxious grin overtaking her face. With a whispered promise that he could thank her later, she settled back next to Emma and squealed in delight.

To his left, Arthur let out a small cough and snuggled a bit deeper into Alfred's shoulder, successfully distracting him from Elizabeta long enough to remind what was actually happening at that actual moment. Alfred slouched a little in his seat so Arthur would be more comfortable, and ever so cautiously, let his head rest atop his own.

"Sleep tight, Artie," he whispered as he closed his eyes. "Awesome job today."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry the the delay, you guys! It's been so hectic at work getting ready for testing and I've been sick and oy, I'm just happy I finished this one!<strong>

**The bus ride home is seriously the best thing in the world, though. Nothing is better than knowing that a meet is over and you don't have to do it again for another week! XD **

**Anyway, short on notes today! XD Thank you all again for the great reviews! I love you dudes so much! **


	5. Valentine's Day Auction

**Alfred- Junior**

**Arthur- Senior**

* * *

><p>"We have to do <em>what?<em>"

"Oh, relax," Elizabeta said, waving Arthur off. "It's not like you have to go on a date or anything, it's just one dance."

Arthur's mouth hung open incredulously, and he spun around in his place to see if anyone else was as shocked and disgusted as he was. "Really?" he exclaimed. "_None_ of you see anything wrong with this?"

"It's a fund-raiser," Emma sighed, appearing at Elizabeta's side. "Coach asked us to put one together and-"

"And _this_ is what you came up with?" Arthur cried. Elizabeta tutted, her hands flying to her hips in irritation.

"If you don't want to participate you don't have to," she stated. "Though you will be letting down your entire team if you don't," she muttered as an afterthought.

Arthur pursed his lips and turned his nose into the air. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one being auctioned."

Kiku, who had remained fairly silent through Arthur's little tirade, despite looking extremely uncomfortable about the whole situation, finally spoke up. "Arthur does make a good point. Why is it just the males who would be, uh, _auctioned off_? Why are the women not going to participate?"

"Because that would be sexist," Mai giggled with a grin. Arthur furrowed his brow.

"Now you wait just a tick-"

Across the room, Francis clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Well," he exclaimed, "I think it is _tres magnifique_! What better gift for our team to give the singles on the day of_ l'amour _than _moi?_""

"Yeah!" Alfred chirped in agreement, to Arthur's horror. "It's just like, one dance, right? I think it'll be fun! Plus, it'll cool to help out people who are lonely on Valentine's Day!"

Thankfully, there were a few other guys that didn't seem entirely thrilled to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, but there were enough excited about the idea that the girls brightened and started describing the event to the rest of the team.

"The girls will handle everything else about the dance," Angelique explained. "We got decorations, food, music, posters, tickets, everything! All you guys have to do is show up, look nice, and dance nicely with whoever buys you."

"And please do not show up drunk," Katyusha reminded everyone timidly. Gilbert groaned somewhere in the room. "We don't need the track team getting a bad reputation."

Elizabeta held some papers above her head in order to get attention once again. "Okay, if you're going to do the auction, come over here and fill out this biography, we'll read it when you are up. Be. Appropriate," she snapped, her eyes flying automatically to Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio. "I mean it! Oh, and if you want to let your whole team down, go meet up with Kat and Nat, they'll have stuff you can help with. Everyone _has _to help with something!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, turning and walking immediately in the direction of the Braginski sisters. There was no way he was going to get himself wrapped up in that mess. Not a chance. Hopefully there was still a spot open helping with decorations- or better yet, bringing food.

"Artie!" Alfred exclaimed, suddenly blocking Arthur's path. "You're not gonna get auctioned?"

"Of course not," Arthur huffed, trying and failing to get around his obnoxiously energetic roommate. He blushed despite himself when all he was met with was well-muscled chest for his efforts. "It's demoralizing and archaic. Besides," he trailed off, "no one would bid on me anyway, so why face that humiliation?"

Alfred's handsome face immediately fell, his eyes widening comically. "What? Dude! Of course you'll get bid on!" Arthur scoffed. "No, seriously dude!" Alfred insisted, "I can think of like, _ten_ girls off the top of my head that would totally bid on you!"

"Name one."

"Oh. Uh..."

"That's what I thought."

Alfred quickly jumped in Arthur's way once again, holding his hands up to block him. "Wait! Uh, Myrtle!"

Arthur blinked. "Myrtle?" he asked, deadpan. "Myrtle who?"

"...Moaning?"

"Oh bloody hell, get out of my way. Hopefully Katyusha still needs someone to bring sweets."

Alfred's face morphed into compete (and totally unnecessary) horror. "Wait what? Hold up a second there, bro!" He jumped in front of him yet once again. "Are you sure you don't wanna be auctioned off? I really, _really _think that would be the best course of action here."

Arthur's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I am _not _auctioning myself off. Now, please move out of my way. Thank you."

Alfred reluctantly scampered off, much to Arthur's relief; the boy had been an absolute nightmare lately. He wasn't sure if it was just because Valentine's Day was coming up and the fates decided to remind Arthur of what he would never have or what, but Alfred was everywhere and anywhere lately. It seemed like wherever Arthur turned, Alfred was there being loud, obnoxious, and ridiculously perfect and handsome and it was really starting to grate on his nerves.

When he finally reached Katyusha and Natalia, the younger of the the sisters was glowering at the small group of males around them while Katyusha seemed to be talking animatedly with a blushing Matthew.

"I really think you should do it!" she was chirping. "The girls would be falling over themselves for a chance to dance with you!"

"No one even knows who I am!" Matthew argued frantically, his face a bright, florescent red.

"Do not be silly." Katyusha shook her head, grabbing Matthew by the shoulders and spinning him in the direction of Elizabeta. "_Вперед! _Go!"

Matthew groaned miserably as they passed each other and Arthur offered him a sympathetic smile. Across the room, Alfred whooped in joy and engulfed his brother in a crushing hug.

Arthur shook his head and approached the girls with a sigh. "Hello ladies, anything I can help you with? Snacks, perhaps?"

Katyusha coughed politely into her hands. "A-actually I think we are okay with food, Arthur. Natalia needs help with decorations though! Don't you, sister? Don't you need help?"

Natalia crossed her arms across her chest. "Whatever. All I really care about is dancing with big brother."

"S-see? Wont decorations be fun?"

Arthur wasn't about to argue that yes, Natalia certainly needed a very good deal of help, but that was neither the time or the place so he simply sighed with a nod. "Yes, I suppose they will be. What do you need assistance with?"

O

If nothing else, at least Arthur knew that the_ flowers_ would look bloody brilliant at the dance.

He had only been given a small budget, so red roses like he had planned had been out of the question, but thankfully the flower shop had a sale on red and pink carnations, and while they weren't exactly the most romantic of flowers, at least he was able to get enough of them to make a decently decorated room.

Throw in a few bags of $1 fake rose petals to spread over the food table, and Arthur thought he did a bang-up job, indeed.

"Oh Arthur, these are lovely!" Elizabeta gushed. "Did you see the table, Lili? Doesn't it look pretty?"

"Very pretty," the younger girl agreed, placing a plate of pink-frosted sugar cookies next to a beautifully crafted vase of carnations. "You did a very good job, Arthur."

Arthur allowed himself to enjoy his praise for a bit as he circled the rented-out activity room to check on his flowers. He checked his watch, noting that the rest of the team would be showing up shortly, and took a deep breath. In all actuality, there was no reason for him to be nervous; his job was complete, the room looked beautiful, and once the students started to arrive, he was essentially allowed to relax.

But there was still something weighing on his chest.

Namely, a certain roommate of his that was being auctioned that night.

When Arthur left the apartment, Alfred had still been standing in front of the mirror, trying to get his cowlick to join the rest of his hair and failing spectacularly, looking dreadfully handsome in his dress shirt and tie.

"I don't think that one lock of hair is going to be enough for someone to decide they don't want you anymore, Alfred."

The boy's eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror, and Arthur couldn't help but smile at the adorable little pout that graced the younger's lips. "Dude, it looks like I have an antenna."

"You _always_ look like you have an antenna."

"Shut up." He spun around and held his hands out at his sides, an imploring look on his face. "Ignoring that, how do I look?"

_Amazing, gorgeous, like the most attractive man I've ever seen?_ His mind supplied for him, but those thoughts were quickly banished to the area reserved especially for Alfred-related thoughts. "Very nice," he decided on. He bit his lip and turned to the door to hide the blush he knew was creeping up his neck. "Just make sure you are there by 6:30!" he snapped.

"Got it! See ya there!"

And it was currently 6:37 and Alfred had yet to make his arrival.

Roderich had taken the stage to set up his equipment, having been talked into playing DJ by Elizabeta, so little snippets of very non-Roderich songs started playing periodically though the speakers. Lovino and Feliciano had already hit the refreshment table, only to be chased away by Lili, and Kiku and Yao had taken the first shift at the ticket table under the watchful eye of Monique.

"Young Alfred is going to be here tonight, _oui?"_

Arthur groaned, cursing to himself and turning to face the frog with a scowl. "As far as I know."

"Good, he is sure to be our biggest sale, after all," Francis replied with a smile. "After _moi _of course."

Arthur pursed his lips. He knew what Francis was trying to do and it wasn't going to work. He wasn't going to be jealous that the entire student body would soon be bidding for Alfred's affections. He wasn't going to be jealous that one of them was going to get to hold his hands, that one of them would get to sway rhythmically with him in time to a slow, romantic love song. On Valentine's Day.

Nope, none of that was going to make him jealous at all.

"Is there something you want, Bonnefoy?" he snapped. Francis grinned.

"_Oui!_ I just wanted to remind you that the auction is open for _all_ members of the student body."

Arthur scoffed. "Honestly? I am well aware th-"

"_Including_ the members of the track team." At Arthur's silence, the Frenchman winked and waved him goodbye, wishing him _au revoir_ as he crossed the dance floor to join Gilbert and Antonio.

Arthur huffed, shoving his hands into the pocket of his trousers- and pulling out a crisp fifty dollar bill that definitely hadn't been there a minute ago.

Damn that frog to hell.

O

Alfred and Matthew arrived together at about five until seven, Matthew a nervous wreck and Alfred looking more than a little ruffled with his brother's wrist in his own iron grip. There was probably some hilarious shenanigans that he would have to ask Alfred about later, but for now, he wouldn't think about that.

The guests were beginning to arrive and Roderich had an upbeat song playing over the speakers, encouraging people to hit the dance floor. To everyone's surprise, Lili was the first one out there, dragging her less than thrilled brother Vash to join her, and as Elizabeta skipped around the room, reminding people of the upcoming auction in T-minus one hour, more and more people were running out to join the fun.

"Wow Artie, this place looks great!"

Arthur jumped, spinning to face to Alfred who seemed to have materialized behind him. "Ah, yes. Thank you," he sputtered out, painfully aware of the money sitting heavily in his pocket. "You've cleaned up well."_ More_ than well, but that was beside the point.

Alfred blushed lightly and ran a hand self-consciously through his hair. "Yeah, I gave up on my cowlick. Mattie would have ruined anything I did with myself anyway," he laughed. "He's fine now, but I had to physically pick up him and carry him across campus to get him here."

Arthur chuckled, glancing at Matthew talking pleasantly with Gilbert and Francis across the room. "Any reason why he was so nervous?"

"Nah, who knows? Probably nervous about the auction. I keep telling him he's gonna be fine!" Alfred bit his lip and looked at Arthur from the corner of his eye. "You would have been fine too, ya know."

Arthur flushed, not even realizing why something as silly and insignificant like that could get him blushing like a school girl. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you are trying to sell me off," he snickered, trying his hardest to keep his voice cool and even.

Alfred smirked, taking a swig from his cup of punch and causally tossing it in the garbage. "I told you already, Artie. I want to make sure no one is lonely on Valentine's Day."

Arthur could any gape as he walked away, wondering just what was going on in that boy's head.

O

Everyone directed their attention to the stage as the music was cut off and Elizabeta tapped on the microphone to test it. Emma stood next to her, giggling and holding the biographies of the guys to be auctioned to her chest.

"Hey everyone!" Elizabeta chirped into the microphone. "It's the moment you've all been waiting for!"

People cheered as a large group began to form at the front of the stage, digging around through pockets and purses to see how much of a spending limit they would have for the night.

Elizabeta waited for the excited whispered to calm down before speaking again. "Okay, so here's the deal! We'll start the bidding at one dollar and go up by one dollar for each bid, unless someone bids otherwise. You'll have three chances at the end of each bid, and if you win, you get your guy for one dance and once dance only." She grinned. "Unless, of course, you both wanna take it further!"

There were a few distinct cheers and claps at that, and Arthur blanched to himself in disgust.

"Alright guys, come up on stage when I call your name, okay?" Emma handed Elizabeta a paper. "First up is Lovino Vargas!"

There were a few half-hearted claps as the angry little Italian walked up to the stage, the look on his face making it completely obvious to everyone that this was the last thing he wanted to be doing. At the front of the stage, Feliciano and Antonio cheered enthusiastically.

"Lovino is a long and triple jumper who joins us all the way from the beautiful country of _Italia_!" Elizabeta began, reading off of Lovino's bio. "He is a -_cough-_ real _Italian Stallion_, and would like to tell the audience today that he likes his lovers like he likes his pizza: hot, round, and covered in tomato sauce." Elizabeta blinked and raised an amused eyebrow in Lovino's direction, but the Italian was looking rather like a tomato himself.

A tomato bent on murder.

"THIS IS WHAT YOU WRITE ABOUT ME, HUH?" he exclaimed, pointing a menacing finger directly at his brother.

Feliciano flinched away and held his hands up in surrender. "But big brother! You asked me to write out a biography for you and you told me to make it sound like something you would say but you didn't tell me what you wanted to say so I just had to come up with something on the spot! And you like pizza don't you, bother? I know you do!"

"THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN SAY THINGS LIKE THAT, STUPIDO!"

"Ahh! I'm sorry, please forgive me!"

Elizabeta cleared her throat and smiled weakly to the audience, who, to their credit, didn't seemed phased at all at the Vargas brother's antics. "Anyway. Can we start the bidding at one dollar?"

"One dollar!" exclaimed Antonio. Elizabeta beamed.

"We have one dollar! Do we have two dollars?"

"Two dollars!"

"Ah, Antonio," Emma giggled, "You don't have to bid again if you already have the current bid!"

"Two dollars!" Elizabeta continued. "Do we have three?"

"Three!"

"Three dollars! For... Antonio. Again."

"Seven!"

"_Stupido idiota!_" Lovino exclaimed, "Don't bid against yourself!"

"Twelve!"

Finally, Elizabeta jumped into action. "We have twelve dollars! Going once, going twice, SOLD! Thank you, Antonio!"

Antonio skipped up on stage and gathered up his "winnings" into his arms before dragging him kicking and screaming into the crowd. Arthur followed them with his eyes as they passed and shook his head; they would be making out in ten minutes, tops.

Elizabeta continued through the list with pretty much the expected results; Berwald intimidated anyone else out of trying to bid on Tino, Elizabeta forced Roderich on stage and offered him out to 'all those lonely gentlemen out there' before ultimately buying him herself, Gilbert ended up with a rather unsightly young woman with a mullet, and in a rather heartwarming change of events, Katyusha won Matthew with a twenty dollar bill and a whole lot of blushing on both ends.

Both Francis and Feliciano earned a(n unfairly) good bit of money for the team, as did Ludwig and Ivan, surprisingly, though the later in a completely unwanted victory to his little sister, and before Arthur even had enough time to mentally prepare himself, Emma was announcing it was time for the last bid of the night, Mr. Alfred F. Jones.

It really shouldn't have bothered Arthur that an excited hum rushed over the crowd of people as Alfred shyly took the stage and waved. It shouldn't have mattered to him at all that there was a distinct ruffle of people holding money at the ready, and throats were being cleared to be prepared when the big moment came.

It should't have. But it really kind of did.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen!" Elizabeta crooned into the microphone. "Alfred here is a 400 runner from the big apple! He enjoys long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners (_at McDonalds)_-" the crowd giggled, "and cuddling up on the couch with a scary movie or super hero action flick. He likes to think of _himself_ as a hero in fact, and hopes to find that special damsel in distress here tonight! Give it up for Alfred!"

Alfred was grinning from ear to ear as the audience whooped and cheered, obviously nervous and excited at this whole thing. Arthur scoffed.

"Okay," Elizabeta continued, "can I get one dollar?"

"One!"

"We have one! Can I get two?"

"Two!"

"Three!

"Five!"

"We have five! Do I hear a six?"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

"Seven fifty!"

"Fifteen!"

Elizabeta beamed, pointing frantically to each bidder. "Fifteen! We have fifteen! Can we make it twenty?"

"Twenty!"

"Twenty! Do I have twenty-five?"

"Twenty-five!"

The battled seemed to settle between a pair of girls Arthur had seen around campus but never knew, and honestly, from the look of them, he was extremely grateful for that. They looked like twats; not even close to the kind of girl that Alfred should associate himself with.

"Forty-five dollars!" rang out a new voice suddenly. Proud, strong, and... French?

The room collectively turned their heads to the corner of the room where Francis stood, a wad of twenties in his outstretched fist. Arthur could only gawk as he walked across the floor and stood directly at his side, calm and cool and completely in control.

"What do you think you're doing, you git?" Arthur hissed under his breath.

"What does it look like, _mon ami_?" he replied easily, like the arrogant idiot he was. "I am bidding for a dance with _Monsieur_ Jones."

Elizabeta and Alfred's eyes were both wide at the sudden addition to the battle, but like a champ, Elizabeta cleared her throat and carried on. "Forty-five dollars!" she exclaimed. "Do I have forty-six?"

The room was deathly quiet. Arthur was fairly certain he could hear Lovino and Antonio making out behind the refreshment table. It was rather disturbing.

"Okay... Forty-five it is! Going once?" Elizabeta asked. Oh god, the frog was really going to win that dance, wasn't he? "Going twice? S-"

"FIFTY DOLLARS."

Bloody hell, that was his own voice, wasn't it?

If the room was quiet before, it was downright _silent _now, but despite the uncomfortableness, Arthur held his head high. It wasn't like he wanted a dance with Alfred or anything, after all. He just wanted the frog to keep his slimy hands off of him. Because they were mates. And mates look after each other like that. Quite.

And he wasn't going to think about the fact he was falling right into that frog's plan, either.

"We have fifty!" Elizabeta exclaimed excitedly, though whether it was from making so much money or because it was _Arthur_ that was bidding on _Alfred_, Arthur didn't want to know. "Do we have fifty-five?"

"Fifty-five."

There was a collective gasp as Francis held his hand in the air once again. Arthur's eyes narrowed challengingly.

"Sixty," he spat back.

"Sixty-five."

"Seventy!"

Blue eyes met green in a heated stare-down, neither party willing to back down. Francis's lips twitched into a small smile.

"Seventy-five."

"Eighty!"

"Eighty-five."

"ONE HUNDRED."

Even the very air that they were all breathing managed to still, all eyes on Arthur Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland, who was now turning a ghostly white as reality was sinking in.

Francis held up his hands in surrender. "That is too rich for my blood, _mon cher,_" he chuckled.

Arthur's entire face bloomed from white to red in a single heartbeat, and a quick glance to Alfred proved that his face was currently doing the same.

"SOLD!" Elizabeta cried, holding Alfred's arm up in the air in victory. "To Arthur Kirkland, for _one hundred dollars_!"

Oh bugger.

O

Roderich just managed to put on a slow and romantic song before being dragged off the stage as the other guys and their respective winners started matching up.

Francis brushed by Arthur with a small chuckle and smile and pat him on the shoulder. "I would have given him to you even if I did win, you know," he laughed, gesturing to the attractive young lady hanging off his arm. "I already had a partner, after all."

And Arthur probably would have killed him, if not for the nervous cough behind him stealing his attention.

"So, uh, I guess you won me, huh Artie?"

Arthur blushed, biting his lip and turing slowly to meet his fate, thankful Alfred seemed to be just as nervous and awkward as he was.

"Though I gotta say, I think you got ripped off. My dancing is seriously not worth a hundred bucks."

Arthur shook his head, managing a short laugh of his own. "You know me, couldn't let the cheese-monkey win." Alfred laughed, breaking the tension a bit, to Arthur's relief. "We don't have to dance you know," he sighed, against his not-so-better judgment. "I'll still have to pay Elizabeta of course, but if you wanted to just pass on the dancing, I wouldn't-"

"No! I mean- aw shit."

Arthur chuckled despite himself, fully aware that his face was probably positively glowing. "Why Mr. Jones, are you asking me to dance?" he teased, because it was easier than letting his real emotions show.

Alfred laughed a bit too loudly and ran a hand through his hair. "Well you kinda paid for it and everything..."

"More like will be paying for it ten dollars a week for five weeks, but close enough, I suppose."

Alfred grinned, holding out his hand for Arthur to take. "Well, what do ya say?"

Arthur smiled in return, for once relishing in the tingles touching Alfred's hand sent throughout his body rather than suppressing them. "Only because it's Valentine's Day."

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! For some reason this chapter was really tough for me, which is silly because I've been to like 3 of these auction off track guy dances. XD Plus it didn't help that IT WOULDN'T END. Oh my gosh, this thing just kept going! XD<strong>

**So I think the next chapter will be going waaay back in time a bit to Alfred and Arthur's first meeting. :D No clue WHEN that will be up, but keep an eye out for it! ;)**

**Hope you enjoyed this everybody! Keep up all the wonderful reviews, you guys don't even know how much I love them and love all of you!  
>-Car <strong>


	6. Computer Problems

**Alfred: Junior**

**Arthur: Senior**

* * *

><p>"Make it work."<p>

Eduard blinked and looked up at Arthur over the rims of his wire-frame glasses. His teammate's face remained stubbornly set in a determined pout, so he sighed, resigning himself to his fate and packing away his programing textbook. "What seems to be wrong with your laptop, Arthur?" he asked good naturedly.

Arthur, now allowed to relax knowing that he was going to be helped, ran a hand through his hair. "Hell if I know. It's been wonky all afternoon."

Eduard opened up the laptop and ran his finger in a circle around the touchpad. "It does seem to be a little laggy," he mused. "Could I take a look around?"

"Do whatever you need to, my good man. I just have a paper due tomorrow."

Eduard nodded, and as he started to tinker around, Arthur let out a strong breath of air and collapsed into the chair nearest to the other boy. He always felt bad seeking out the distance runner to help with his computer issues, as everyone else on the team (and the school, actually) did the same, but he really was in a bind and needed it fixed. Sometimes he wished he knew more about computers, though he couldn't complain too much, as Alfred was a bit of a techie himself, and he was always up for a reason to look for his help.

Of course, said roommate was in class until practice, and Arthur needed to be able to work on his paper _now,_ so the much less hunky, yet far more intelligent, Eduard would have to do.

"Any idea what we are doing for practice today?" Eduard asked, making conversation.

Arthur shrugged. "I think we're doing mile repeats. You lot have five or six I think, we'll have four."

He nodded, clicking around some more. "So, how old is this computer?"

"Oh," Arthur muttered, pondering for a moment. "About three years old, I think."

"The hard drive _should_ be fine then," he said. "May I look around your documents? There might be something taking up a lot of space and slowing things down."

"Oh course, do what you must."

They continued to sit together in silence, Eduard clicking around and occasionally _mmm_ing in contemplation, while Arthur absentmindedly let his eyes wander around the room. He didn't spend much time in the computer lab, save for one introduction to technology class he took freshman year, so there was plenty of new things for him to mindlessly stare at.

Without warning the clicking stopped, and out of the corner of Arthur's eye, he could see Eduard's own eyes widening. "Is something the matter?" he asked, sitting up straighter.

"Uh," Eduard coughed, "I _think_ I may have found the problem."

"Well, that's good then, isn't it?" Arthur said with a small, unsure smile. The other boy paused, seeming to contemplate his next words before waving Arthur over.

"Arthur, what is all this?"

"What is wha-?"

Arthur froze as one of his biggest, most embarrassing secrets filled the screen.

Okay, it was a little embarrassing, but Arthur kind of, sort of had an "Alfred Folder." Don't look at him like that, damnit, if you'd been as hopelessly in love with someone for the past three years like Arthur was, you would understand!

Francis had found it once (though it wasn't exactly very _hard_ to find, he supposed... it was on his desktop under the name "AFJ") and called it his "stalker collection", but that wasn't it at all! It was just... pictures. Pictures Arthur had found on Alfred's Facebook or the school's athletic website from track or American football, pictures of them together or pictures were Alfred looked exceptionally nice... And okay, maybe there were a few internet conversations from the summers when Arthur went back to England that he may or may not had copied into word documents... And there was that video they they had taken during Alfred's 21st birthday celebration at the beginning of that year, that they had taken in the back of Matthew's car when Alfred was drunkenly hanging all over him and giggling and might have even kissed him on the cheek in his silliness...

Aaaand, that's enough of that.

Long story short, all of Arthur's sexual repression since sophomore year was filling up his computer screen and dancing in front of his classmate and teammate's face.

_Bloody fuck._

"Well everything seems to be in order!" he exclaimed awkwardly, sweeping his laptop off the desk and into his arms. "Thank you, old chap! I'll see you at practice, bye!"

Eduard blinked rapidly. "I haven't actually fixed anythi- and he's gone." With a smirk and a sigh, he returned to his programing homework, knowing exactly what gossip the distance runners would be talking about during their warm up today.

Gilbert was going to have a field day.

* * *

><p><strong>Short little pointless chapter! XD Mainly for simplytrop because she has a bad day the other day and I wanted to make her smile because I know she has a thing for middle-school-girl-like-stalker!England. XD SO THIS IS FOR YOU MY DEAR! :D<strong>

**Anyway, Estonia is fun, plus it was just his birthday, so this is kinda for that, too! XD He's based off one of my friends from college who was a computer science major who had to put up with me finding him and making him fix my shit for 4 years. What a trooper. Thank you dude! XD**

**NEXT chapter is their infamous meeting! It's ending up much longer than I expected so I skipped over that for now to at least get something up. :) Hope you enjoyed it, and don't forget to review! They seriously make my life! XD**


	7. Move in Day Meeting

**Arthur- Sophomore**

**Alfred- Freshman**

* * *

><p>Arthur Kirkland and Kiku Honda sat across from each other at a local cafe that catered mainly to the numerous college students in the area, sipping their tea in pleasant silence.<p>

Arthur knew Kiku was waiting for him to speak; he was the one who asked him here, after all. He was the one drumming his fingertips on the tabletop, bouncing his leg up and down, and slurping his tea uncharacteristically loudly.

"Maybe he will not be so bad, Arthur."

But thankfully, Kiku knew his friend and teammate well enough to know he wasn't going to say a bloody thing.

"Francis and Coach Rome chose him _specifically_ for me, Kiku," he sighed miserably. "The odds are very much _not_ in my favor."

"He seemed normal enough when he was here for his visit," the Japanese man rationalized with a shrug.

Arthur groaned. "Of course he _seemed_ normal! They always _seem_ normal until you wake up with a pick-ax in your face!"

"That only happened to Yao once. Ivan was fairly well-mannered the rest of the semester."

Arthur slammed his face unceremoniously into the table and with a sigh, and Kiku pat his shoulder uncomfortably. It seemed like only yesterday that Arthur was delivered the horrible news of his new roommate... Actually it was yesterday, but whatever. He had just finished moving all of his things into his new dorm room, as the international students were allowed to move in a few days earlier than the other students, when he got a (horribly misspelled and smiley face-filled text from Rome.

_'arthur- com 2 my ofic plz! i hav newz 4 u! :D'_

Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. He had a sneaking suspicion this would be about his new roommate and he was more than a little perturbed about the whole mess. Francis, his roommate from last year, chose to live off campus at the last minute, leaving him without a roommate or even time to find one. As soon as the Residence Director found out, he contacted Rome and the soccer coach to see if there were any of Arthur's teammates that were roommate-less, and sure enough, Rome jumped right into action.

It didn't take long to walk across campus to the athletic building from his dormitory, and Rome was exactly where he knew he would be, sitting in his office, playing solitaire on his computer as Coach Germania sat by his side doing all the actual work for the impending cross country season.

"Ah! Arthur, you got my text, _sì_? Come in, come in!" he exclaimed in his thick Italian accent, leaping from his chair and ushering Arthur into the office. He briefly wondered how a man his age was still so energetic as he took a seat on the hard, uncomfortable couch. "How was your summer? Are you tired from your flight? I know Feli and Lovi sure were! But they came back about a week ago and have been staying with me, so they are no longer jet lagged! Oh, aren't Ludwig and Gilbert arriving today, _amico_?" he chirped, turning towards Coach Germania.

"_Ja,_" he replied, not taking his eyes off the paperwork he was working on.

"Ludwig is his youngest son," Rome explained with a grin. "He'll be joining us for track this year too! He's a sprinter. He's quite good, isn't he?"

"_Ja._"

Rome hopped around the office, pulling papers and documents from everywhere. "He and _mio nipote_ are great friends! Feliciano of course, not Lovino. He doesn't like Luddy much."

"Lovino doesn't like anyone much," Germania mumbled. Rome laughed long and hard.

"Ah, this is true! He is _adorabile_ though!" He paused, apparently finding what he was looking for with an_ a-ha_ and wheeling his desk chair around to face Arthur. "I bet you are wondering why I called you here," he said with a grin.

Arthur shrugged. "Is it because I don't have a roommate, by any chance?"

Rome's face split into an even bigger grin than Arthur thought was humanly possible. "S_ì!_ How did you know?"

"Oh, I don't know. The fact that my frog of a roommate called me three days ago to tell me he was moving off campus and to wish me good luck finding someone willing to put up with me for nine months was a good clue."

The coach's grin finally fell, his face taking on a much more serious expression. "The attitude, Arthur," he scolded. "We have talked about this."

Arthur bit his lip and turned away. "Right, sorry."

Rome shook his head, but clapped his hands together. "Which brings us to what I wanted to talk about! Francis and I talked it over this summer, and he has suggested to me an ideal roommate for you."

"What?" Arthur shrieked. "You're taking _Francis'_ word on who _I _will be living with?"

Rome held up his hand, silencing the younger man with a stern look that left no room for argument. "After watching you throw away your education and what could have been a very successful track season last year, _yes_."

Arthur blushed lightly, looking away so he didn't have to meet his coach's eyes.

"The Arthur last year was not the same Arthur I recruited," Rome sighed. "And you, of all people, know this best of all." Arthur remained silent, though the guilt on his face was obvious.

It was true, he wasn't happy with his performance, both in athletics and in the classroom, his freshman year, and as much as he wished he could blame Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert, he knew it was no ones fault but his own. Sure, they provided a very persistent catalyst to his little rebellion, but no one made Arthur go out and drink every night, no one made him cut classes and go to parties and skip practices.

And as a result, _he_ was the one on the verge of loosing his scholarship and put on academic probation.

Thankfully, after a very serious and humbling conversation with Germania and Rome after conference, Arthur was able to pull himself together that summer, and while he fully intended to stick with his new, reformed self, he didn't blame Rome for not exactly trusting him one-hundred percent. The coach _had_ put a lot of time, effort, and money into him, only to have it thrown back in his face.

"His name is Alfred," Rome said suddenly, breaking Arthur from his thoughts. "He's from New York City. He and his brother are both coming here this year and are going to be on the team. They came for a visit last year, I think, though it might have been that weekend you were on that English trip... S_ì_, s_ì,_ because they stayed with Francis."

Arthur crinkled his nose. "So I never even got the chance to _meet_ this chap?"

"Ah, no. But he is a great kid! He is coming on scholarship for academics, even. I think he's majoring in astrophysics or something. Something sciencey and smart sounding like that. Anyway, everyone loved him when he was here! Don't remember much about his brother though..."

Arthur fiddled with the hem of his shirt, anxious for something to do with his hands. "And why, may I ask, was Francis so eager to sent this lad my way?"

Rome shrugged, handing the paper he had been searching for earlier to Arthur. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help it when his eyes widened at the list of the boy's accomplishments. "He's likeable, talented, joining the football team-" Arthur perked up, "_American _football team, I mean," and instantly deflated. "Good grades, big dreams..."

"Sounds like your regular old all-American boy next door, coach," Arthur sighed sarcastically. Rome grinned.

"Exactly." He slipped the paper from Arthur's hands. "Maybe he'll be a good influence on you."

O

Kiku dropped Arthur off in front of the dorms before pulling back around to go try and park his car in the parking lot. The freshman had started arriving while he and Kiku had been out, and the parking lot and street were already full of cars, excited new students, and proud but teary-eyed parents.

Arthur blinked into the sunlight, his eyes resting on the first window to the left on the third floor. The blinds were open. They were closed when he left.

His roommate was here.

With a sigh, Arthur took out his phone and sent a short text to Francis, who he assumed would be moving into his fancy new off-campus apartment by now.

_'He's here'_

Francis's reply was almost immediate.

'_u can thank me later _mon ami'

Arthur rolled his eyes. If by thanking him he meant kick his arse, then sure, but from what Arthur knew, this Alfred character sounded like a twit. Mr. All-American astro-whatever major... they wouldn't get along at all. Sure Arthur had reformed himself over the summer, but he was still _Arthur_.

After almost running into some shy, nervous looking freshman in the door, Arthur chipped into the elevator (oh, overprotective private schools) and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the undoubtably awkward first meeting that was about to occur.

He wasn't surprised to see the door to his room open as he turned the corner, the building wasn't air conditioned and the air flowed much better though the windows with the door open, after all. The huge, loud crash, however, that was rather unexpected.

Arthur cursed to himself and jogged to the room. "Is everything alright?" he asked, peaking around the door frame.

And that was when he saw him.

He was tall and tan, with dirty blonde hair and wire frame glasses. He was wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a dark gray t-shirt that was made even darker by the rings of sweat around the collar and underarms. Sweat that obviously formed from the heavy lifting he must have been doing for the past half hour if the completely rearranged furniture and influx of cardboard boxes were any indication.

Plus he was kind of currently in the process of dragging a bloody futon across the room when Arthur distracted him.

Oh hell, he had nice arm muscles.

He came to his senses to see that the boy and a middle aged woman he hadn't noticed looking at him curiously, the boy still holding onto the end of the futon like a trooper, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping down his temple.

"Uh," he muttered intelligently. He cleared his throat and stepped into full view in the doorway, smiling weakly and giving a little wave. "Hello, um, I'm Arthur Kirkland." He cringed internally. Even _he_ thought he sounded like an idiot.

The woman's eyes lit up. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You must be Alfie's roommate!" She rushed to the door and shook his hand enthusiastically before turning around and gesturing to the boy excitedly. "Alfred, put that thing down and introduce yourself to Arthur! It _is _Arthur, right hun?"

"Yes, that's right," he replied politely. Behind the woman, Alfred dropped the futon, letting out a big breath of air and wiping at his forehead, shooting his mom a clear 'you're trying to kill me' look in the process. "I'm sorry, I never got your name..."

"Oh, just call me Mrs. Jones!" she chirped. "And can I just say, you have the most lovely accent! England, right?"

Arthur nodded. "I'm from just outside of London."

"How fun!" She clapped her hands together excitedly and Alfred walked up beside her. She wasted no time in throwing an arm around his middle and pushing him forward. "Say hi, sweetie!"

Alfred playfully rolled his (very, _very_ blue) eyes and grinned, thrusting his hand forward for Arthur to shake. "Hi there, Arthur, I'm Alfred Jones! Looks like we'll be bunking together for a few months, huh?"

Arthur gulped and shook his hand with as tight a grip as he could muster in the presence of what was essentially his perfect, ideal man. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well," he answered shakily.

Alfred grinned (bloody hell, his teeth were _perfect_) and shrugged kind of shyly towards the messy room behind him. "Sorry about the mess, bro. My mom's had me moving boxes and furniture nonstop, so I haven't gotten a chance to put anything away yet."

"It's alright," he said with a nod. "Move-in day is often like that."

Alfred smiled, it faltering only when his eyes flicked over Arthur's right shoulder. "Oh, hey guys! How's the moving goin'?" he called.

Arthur spun around, coming face to face with a middle aged man and the shy looking guy he had almost ran into in the door downstairs. Shy-guy waved back to Alfred, peaking at Arthur curiously out of the corner of his eye, as the middle aged man scoffed and crossed his arms.

"Better than in here obviously," he sighed. "What have you two been _doing_ this whole time?'

"Decorating." Mrs. Jones smiled. She had made herself comfortable in the rolling office chair at Alfred's desk. "How's it going, Mattie dear?"

Shy-guy (Mattie?) shrugged. "It's going well. Got pretty much all of my stuff unpacked and put away." Finally he turned to Arthur. "Sorry, but, um, are you Al's roommate?"

Mrs. Jones gasped, standing straight up and rushing to the door, practically shoving Alfred out of the way. "Oh, how rude of me! Mattie, sweetheart," she addressed Mattie and the man respectively, "this is Arthur Kirkland. Arthur, this is my husband and Alfie's twin, Matthew."

"Twin?" he asked. He looked between the boys and was surprised he hadn't realized how alike they looked until then, he knew Alfred had a brother coming as well, but he guessed he never even thought about the possibility of it being a _twin_. Alfred threw an arm around Matthew's shoulders, much to the other boy's horror.

"Ugh, Al! Get off of me, eh! You're all sweaty!"

"Alfred," Mr. Jones scolded, his nose crinkling in disgust. "Get off of him, that's gross."

Alfred laughed and Arthur ran a hand through his hair, introducing himself to Matthew and Mr. Jones properly, and inviting the rest of the family into the room to relax for a bit.

"That's alright, Arthur," Mr. Jones declined politely. "We actually just came by to grab these two for an early dinner. Would you like to join us?"

Arthur, unreasonably nervous for no particular reason, shook his head, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "That's quite alright, thank you Mr. Jones," he replied. "I actually just returned from a late lunch and I've still unpacking to do."

"No problem, maybe next time." Mr. Jones nodded, gathering up his things and gesturing down the hall with his head. "Well, shall we?"

"It was nice to meet you, Arthur," Alfred's brother (whose name seemed to escape Arthur at the moment) said with a smile. "I'll see you around, eh?"

"Yes, yes, it was wonderful meeting you, sweetie!" Mrs. Jones told him cheerily, wrapping him up in a quick hug. "You keep Alfie out of trouble, you hear? Don't let him get away with anything!"

Alfred's face bloomed an attractive pink. "Moooom," he whined, sluggishly dragging his feet to the door.

Mrs. Jones held up her hand, stopping Alfred from joining the rest of the family with a firm glare. "Ah-ah, not so fast, young man. You will not be going out to dinner dripping with sweat. Change your shirt."

"Ugh, I'm _fine_ Mom. I can jus-"

"Alfred Foster Jones. You change your shirt this instant."

Alfred grumbled, squatting down and digging through his boxes to find his clothes. Mr. Jones called from down the hallway that they would meet Alfred out by the car and that if he didn't hurry, they would leave without him. Alfred yelled back he would be down in a second before offering Arthur an apologetic smile.

"Sorry my family is so... my family," he said, followed by a whoop of joy when he found one of the boxes containing his clothes. Arthur shrugged.

"No need to apologize," he sighed, sitting down on his bed and trying not to notice how absolutely _perfect_ his new roommate's calves were. "My family is much worse."

Alfred laughed. "No shit? Awesome! That gives us at least one thing to talk about!"

And then he pulled off his shirt, and Arthur thought of about 4 billion _other_ things he wouldn't mind "talking" with Alfred about, but only about three that would would even be close to appropriate having just met him.

His mouth went dry as Alfred went to the sink in the corner of the room behind the door and splashed a little water on his bare, sculpted chest. He dried himself off with his old, sweaty t-shirt and discarded it to an empty, unused area on the floor, and slipped the clean, baby blue one over his head instead.

It matched his eyes perfectly.

"Hey Arthur," he said, snapping Arthur from his thoughts. "Sorry this was so rushed and stuff, but I'd totally like to get to know you when I get back! I have tons of questions about classes and sports and stuff." Something seemed to click in his brian just then, as his eyes widened and got very bright and excited. "How cool is it that I'm rooming with a _sophomore_? I bet you know like, everything!"

Before Arthur got the chance to tell Alfred otherwise, the boy was tossing his lanyard over his head and leaning against the door frame.

"Listen, I'll talk to ya later, okay dude? Be back later! Nice meeting you!"

Arthur heard him walk briskly through the hallway and get on the elevator, the not-so-oiled doors squeaking a little as they closed. Once sure that Alfred had left the building and was not coming back, he threw himself onto his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Absentmindedly, he took out his phone and texted a message to Francis.

'_I hate you so much_'

One again, the reply was almost immediate.

'_u r welcome. enjoy. ;)_"

* * *

><p><strong>10 bucks <strong>**if you can guess who Alfred and Matthew's parents are supposed to beeee! XD**

**And thus our story begins! Okay, I'm glad I finally got this meeting out of the way. I still feel like I left out a lot of details, and for the life of me I don't know what, but I plan on doing a chapter at some point of their first night as roommates and that awkward getting-to-know-you pillow talk you tend to have with a new roommate, so I can add stuff in there in I need to! XD**

**In case you missed it, Germania is Gilbert and Ludwig's father, and Rome is Feliciano and Lovino's fairly young grandfather. Feli and Lovi's mom got married and had them pretty young, so he and Germania are around the same age, Rome being just a few years older. Kinda confusing, but there you go! XD**

**Just gonna add that I love that Arthur had a rebellious freshman year. XD I feel a lot of people do when they're in their first year of university! *I* did! XD Of course, I didn't even have a track coach for half of my freshman year, so my athletics weren't affected at all, but that's a story for a different day. XD**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and happy weekend to all of you! - Car**


	8. A Race Between Frenemies

**Alfred- Junior**

**Arthur- Senior**

* * *

><p>It was simultaneously the best and worst thing to happen to the World U track team since the great heat wave of April 2011, when the other girls convinced Katyusha to take off her shirt to combat the heat.<p>

They lost a lot of good men that day, but by God, it was worth it.

Although, Alfred would argue that as great as that whole incident was, this discovery was even better.

It, like most things, began with an argument between Francis and Arthur during one windy afternoon practice.

"Oh please, get your arse up and run a few laps with the rest of us. Maybe you'll actually make it over the bar every once in a while if you lost some weight."

"_Excusez moi?_" Francis gasped. "But my event is one of fast-twitch muscles and grace! Not mindlessly running like a hamster on a wheel."

"A _hamster_?" Arthur exclaimed. "This is our cool-down, you git! It's about being a _team_! Though I understand how you wouldn't _need_ a cool-down seeing as you have nothing to cool down _from,_" he snapped, crossing his arms and sticking his nose into the air.

Francis was on his feet at that, tightening his ponytail and glaring straight into Arthur's eyes. "Pole vaulting is the act of defying the very laws of gravity, _rosbif," _he spat. "It is an event that if not done the correct, precise way, could send you falling to your _death._ It is much more taxing than simply_ jogging around in a circle._"

"Jogging around in a _circle_?" Arthur seethed, his eyes flashing a dangerous green. "What part of working your body to the very brink of exhaustion in the most basic form of human competition is simply _jogging around in a circle_ to you?"

"I could do it with my eyes closed, _mon ami_."

"Ha! I'd like to see you try!"

And so, at the next meet, Francis ran the 1500.

And he was good.

And Arthur was _pissed_.

Coach Rome, however, was absolutely ecstatic at the prospect of Arthur finally having a worthy adversary to push him at meets, and talked Francis into participating in the pole vault and 1500 from now on. As a result, the school won more points than it ever had before, and Arthur was breaking his old school records at almost every meet.

Everything was working out perfectly... save for one, tiny detail.

"_Last call, 1500 meter run. Last call."_

Alfred looked up and chuckled a Gilbert whooped and plopped down next to him, a dripping peanut better and jelly sandwich in his hands. He was confined to his (apparently totally manly and awesome) baby chick umbrella due to his pale complexion, but had a grin roughly the size of Texas on his face as he beckoned the other members of the team to sit down and enjoy the show.

"It's gonna be awesome!" he exclaimed, scooting closer to Alfred as Matthew joined them on the bleacher. "Frannie's been practically poking at Art with a stick all week to get him worked up for today!"

"Like he would have to try very hard," Matthew mumbled, popping one of his damn donuts in his mouth. Alfred still resented that he could eat those things all day without having to worry about other events. "After last week, I would be surprised if they get past the start line without incident."

Elizabeta elegantly threw herself down next to Alfred, stretching her arms over her head and tsking. "I still can't believe Rome is keeping this up," she said, shaking her head. "Innocent people are getting hurt."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a buzz kill. The only ones getting hurt are Art and Fran and, let's just put it out there, they kinda deserve it."

They quieted down and clapped respectively as the last runner in the 5k panted his way down the last straightaway about four minutes after the runner before him had gone by. At the start line, the 1500 runners were going through the last motions of stretching and sprinting to stay loose, and the other members of the World U team were filing to the bleachers. No one wanted to miss a second of the excitement.

Now, as any frequent track and field observer could tell you, the 1500 meter run wasn't exactly the most exciting race in the entire meet. For most, watching a bunch of guys in short shorts run around the track for four laps, three of which they are usually clumped together in a skinny and sweaty mob, isn't exactly the best way to spend five minutes.

However, once Francis and Arthur started running against each other, the World U track team saw things differently.

The 1500 had turned from mild-mannered distance race to a fight to the death every Saturday.

"So who's it gonna be this week, boys?" Gilbert asked, earning a rather impressive glare from Elizabeta. "Eyebrows or French fry?"

Matthew chuckled, shaking his head with a small smile. "To win or to get disqualified?"

"Pfft, disqualified of course! Who cares who wins?"

"_They_ do," Alfred chuckled, motioning to the start line with his head.

Arthur kneeled off to the right of Vash, Lili's older brother and the go-to starting gun guy for World U, on the grass, folding his warm ups into a perfectly neat little pile. Around him, the other athletes, Francis included, were running around him to tighten their spikes, set their watches, and get in last minute sprints before it was time to take to the waterfall start line. Among the chaos, the Brit looked extremely out of place.

Vash blew his whistle, signaling it was time to start the race, and the runner's rushed to their places. Arthur stood up and quickly brushed off his silky little shorts (emitting an appreciative whistle from Gilbert, who nudged the vibrantly blushing and stammering Alfred teasingly), and took his place between a red-headed boy from Clarke's Academy of the Arts, and Francis himself.

"My vote is on Arthur," Matt finally answered with a nod. "To win, I mean. Francis got him last time and I think he's been psyching himself up all week for this."

Alfred nodded. "Oh yeah, Artie's got it in the bag. He's been a freaking firecracker lately."

"Well of course Golden Boy's gonna go for his boyfriend." Gilbert laughed. Alfred flushed.

"Dude! He's not my boyfriend!"

"But you want him to be!" Elizabeta sang, ruffling his hair. Alfred blushed even deeper and swatted her hand away.

"Okay!" he exclaimed, "Enough with my non-existent love life, already! Sheesh. They're about to start." Elizabeta, Matthew, and Gilbert shared knowing looks behind the pouting boy's back, but turned to watch the track as the gun was lifted into the air.

"Runner's to your marks!" Vash exclaimed in that no nonsense voice of his. Instantly, the runners fell into line.

With the exception of the two World Academy students in lane five.

It started with a light shove from Arthur to get Francis out of his way. It was then followed by a light whack to the head from Francis because Arthur had shoved him. By the time the group of their teammates on the bleachers were alerted to any disturbances, it had escalated into a sudden audible exclamation of "bloody tossing sonofabitch" before Vash had to step in. Any normal runner would have been disqualified, but at World Academy, things like this had become the norm.

Once everything had been settled down, the gun was back up in the air.

"Well I don't know about you guys, but I think Francis is gonna win," Gilbert chimed in as the runners got to their mark once again. "Looks like little Crumpet down there is feeling especially bitchy today, he'll be DQed before the 800." He turned to Alfred with a smirk. "What'd you do to rile your roommate up so much, Al?"

Alfred blushed. "Go to Hell, Gil."

_BANG!_

The runners were off, Francis leading the pack as usual around the first curve, Arthur allowing him to set the pace and keeping a stride behind.

Gilbert tsked. "Fucking Francis always does this. Don't take the lead, ya asshole! You're just going to tire yourself- aw fuck. He can't hear me."

"And he wouldn't listen if he did," Matthew argued with a shrug. "He has natural talent so he doesn't feel like he needs to be strategic."

Elizabeta nodded as the pack rounded the second curve and made their way down the straightaway. "Come on Francis! Let's go Arthur!" she exclaimed as they ran by.

"You got this, Artie!" Alfred called as well. "Let him block the wind! Coast behind him!"

"Yo Francis! I got money on this race so you better not fuck it up!" Matt rolled his eyes and smacked Gilbert in the arm. "Hey!"

One lap down, and nothing much had changed. A few guys started to drop back towards the back of the pack, but the leaders remained on pace and strong. Unbeknownst to the competitors however, a heavy silence was starting to fall anxiously over the crowd.

"Someone better punch someone soon or I'm leaving," Gilbert grumbled.

"Really Gil? Really? No one is punching each other so you want to _leave_?" Elizabeta shook her head. "Why can't you just, I don't know, _cheer on your friends?_ There's a thought!"

Gilbert pursed his lips, glaring at her around Alfred. "Um, maybe because this is the boringest fucking race in th- oh shit, here we go!"

All heads immediately turned back to the track, where the runners were coming around for the final straightaway in their second lap. Arthur was trying to make a move.

"Go Artie! Yeah!" Alfred exclaimed, hopping up to the railing along with everyone else. "Halfway there, man! You got this!"

"Elbow him in the face, Frannie!" Gilbert exclaimed, much to the annoyance of Matthew and Elizabeta.

"He'll never learn," Matthew sighed. Elizabeta nodded.

Down on the track, Arthur had successfully made it around Francis with exactly two laps to go, taking the lead. This was a bold and unusual act for the young man, who usually didn't make his move until they had one lap to go, and Francis was obviously feeling a bit put off by the change in routine.

Narrowing his eyes, Francis picked up his speed.

The group on the bleachers continued to cheer as they ran their third lap, seeming to switch off who was leading every 100 meters. Francis wasn't afraid to pass on the curve, and Arthur took full advantage of the straightaways to get around him. By the time they hit the bell lap, both boys were running neck and neck.

"Oh shit!" Gilbert exclaimed excitedly. "Oh fuck, this is gonna be so good!"

"Guys!" Alfred cried, looking up from his watch. "If they can finish without hurting each other, they'll both hit national qualifying time!""

Elizabeta gasped. "Really? Oh my- Go Arthur! Go Francis!"

"Don't kill each other!" Matthew finished.

Which was precisely when they turned the corner and landed on the ground in a screaming, punching heap.

Alfred was the first off his seat, leaping over the railing of the bleachers and sprinting out to the track, chanting a panicked mantra of "oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" as he ran. Gilbert, Matthew and Elizabeta followed close behind, Gilbert laughing his ass off and Elizabeta and Matthew scolding him for thinking it was so funny.

Alfred was beaten to the brawl only by Rome and Germania, who were desperately trying to move them out of the way of the confused yet pleasantly surprised athletes still running in the race. Alfred was finally able to yank Arthur into the infield as the smaller man thrashed around, yelling obscenities the whole way.

"Release me at once, you git!" Arthur exclaimed breathlessly, obviously still tired from the race. "He's a bloody lunatic! He tripped me and tried to smash my head into the ground!"

"That is a lie!" Francis yelled, now being dragged into the infield by Matthew and Elizabeta. "He is the one who elbowed me in the face! My _beau _face!"

The race official walked over and informed the group that both Francis and Arthur were disqualified, despite knowing as much already. They collectively sighed, Alfred still holding back a flailing Arthur, and Gilbert cackling about how much money he just made in bets, much to the annoyance of his father. Rome shrugged with a laid-back laugh.

"Ah, you win some, you lose some, sì?" he sang. Elizabeta, Matthew, and Germania rolled their eyes.

O

Alfred peaked his head into the athletic training room where Arthur and Francis were being held, noting that they had been moved to opposite sides of the room, and Francis was sporting a fresh looking black eye that had not been there when he checked on them before.

Arthur, however, looked extremely self-satisfied for someone suffering a minor concussion.

"Hey guys, we're about to head out," Alfred said with a grin. "Don't worry Artie, I grabbed your shit. And I think Antonio's got yours, Francis."

Francis sighed in relief, adjusting the ice packs on his ribs and eye and dragged himself out of the room, muttering something violent-sounding in French. Alfred shook his head with a chuckle as he passed.

"Ready, kiddo?"

"Don't call me that, you prat." Alfred laughed, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulders and guiding him out to the parking lot. Despite himself, Arthur smiled. "So how did the 4x400 go?"

"Got second," Alfred boasted. "Someone's gotta score points when you and Francis beat the crap out of each other every other week."

Arthur whacked him lightly in the arm. "Piss off, I'll get him next week."

They boarded the bus together in comfortable silence, satisfied to put another (almost) successful meet behind them.

* * *

><p><strong>Inspired by an Irish teammate of mine who managed to get himself a concussion running the 1500 then he got in a shoving match with another runner. XD Not too much romance in this one, but we hadn't done anything track-like in a while, and this being a track AU, I thought I should probably write up one. XD<strong>

**Can I just say I love the frenemies relationship Arthur and Francis have? I do. XD Just a reminder that if you have any questions about track lingo or anything, PM me or ask me on my tumblr! :D I love to talk to you guys! **

**Last thing, back on the subject of track, my first official practice as a coach is on Monday! :DDD I have no idea what they'll be doing, but I'm sure it's gonna be great! XD Thanks for reading guys! I love all of you!**


	9. Back for Good

**Alfred- Sophomore**

**Arthur- Junior**

* * *

><p>"I think you might be taking this a little too far, Arthur."<p>

"He was being a git."

Matthew continued to lazily follow the pacing Brit with his eyes, watching as he compulsively cleaned his already clean bedroom in a fit of anger. From his place on the bed, he could just make out Kiku standing nervously in the doorframe, obviously itching to voice what they were both thinking but being far too polite.

"He's _always_ a git," Matthew offered. Arthur scoffed and tossed a dirty pair of socks a little too roughly into his laundry hamper. "Maybe kicking him out of the apartment is a little extreme?"

Arthur slammed the lid of his hamper down, and spun around to glare at Matthew. "He called my scones slabs of concrete!"

"In his defense, they did kind of resemble concrete," Kiku muttered. Matthew and Arthur glared in response.

"Not the point!" Arthur exclaimed, resuming his obsessive tidying.

Matthew and Kiku exchanged weary looks, Matthew running a hand through his hair and sighing heavily. "I know you don't usually believe in the whole twin connection thing, but seriously Arthur, Alfred is _crazy_ about you. I know this for a_ fact_."

Arthur continued to violently adjust the sheets on his bed as an unsuccessful attempt to hide his blushing. "Enough. You're only trying to make me feel better."

"But he is not," Kiku interjected. "Alfred...he..." he paused and blinked. "Does anyone else hear music?" The three boys froze, straining their ears. Sure enough, the unmistakable sound of music was floating faintly into the room.

"It doesn't sound like Roderich's practicing." Matthew narrowed his eyes, trying to listen harder. "And it doesn't sound like it's coming from downstairs, so I don't think it's Yao."

"It sounds like it's coming from outside," Kiku muttered, walking into the room and leaning over Arthur's bed to join Matthew in the window.

Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest and storming towards the window as well. "Honestly, if it's those prats at the football house, I'll-" he pulled back the curtain and froze.

Alfred was standing in the middle of the lawn, an obnoxiously large boom box held over his head. He stared, unblinkingly up at Arthur's window as students passing on the sidewalk behind him pointed and giggled. Arthur's face turned a ghostly white.

Finally getting over his shock, Matthew groaned miserably and yanked the window open. The boys could finally hear what song was playing clearly.

"_I guess now it's time for me to give up, I feel it's time. Got a picture of you beside me, got your lipstick mark still on your coffee cup."_

"Alfred!" Matthew exclaimed. "What the hell are you _doing, _eh?"

Alfred didn't move a muscle. He simply continued to stare up at the window, the blush on his cheeks evident even from the third floor.

"_Got a fist of pure emotion, got a head of shattered dreams. Gotta leave it, gotta leave it all behind, now..."_

Arthur pulled himself together, pushing Matthew out of the window and sticking his wildly blushing head out of it. "ALFRED," he cried. "YOU STOP THIS NONSENCE THIS MOMENT!"

Alfred reached up to the boom box and turned up the volume as the chorus started.

"_Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn't mean it, I just want you back for good. Whenever I'm wrong just tell me the song and I'll sing it, you'll be right and understood. Want you back, want you back, want you back for good!"_

"Oh bloody hell!" Arthur cried, spinning away from the window and speeding across the room, his hand held over his flushing cheeks. Kiku pursed his lips and turned back to watch Alfred.

"I think he is trying to apologize, Arthur."

Matthew rubbed his temples. "What made him think this was a good idea?"

"_Whenever I'm wrong, just tell me the song and I'll sing it, you'll be right and understood. Want you back, want you back, want you back for good. I want you back for good!"_

Arthur had successfully paced in a full circle around his room, ending at the window once again. After a short pause, he poked his head out the window again. "Alfred Jones, you get your arse out of here! People are _staring_!"

Kiku cocked his head to the side between Arthur and Matthew, holding his chin pensively. "I think that is Elizabeta down there taking pictures, as well," he mused.

"Of course she is," Matt sighed.

"_Unaware but underlined, __I figured out this story, It wasn't good. Yet in a corner of my mind, I celebrated glory, but that was not to be._"

Kiku wrapped his arms around himself, obviously very uncomfortable with such a blatant display of public affection. "This is really embarrassing."

"For once," Matthew agreed, "I'm really happy no one ever mistakes me for Al."

"_In the twist of separation, you excelled at being free. Can't you find a little room inside for me?"_

To everyone's amusement, Alfred had actually moved very little since they had been watching him. To see the normally energetic young man standing so seriously still for so long was quite a spectacle and it was obviously getting around campus, as more and more people were showing up to get a glimpse.

"I'm surprised his arm's aren't tired," Matthew mumbled.

Kiku nodded. "It is amazing what someone can accomplish with the right determination."

Alfred's eyes narrowed and his blush darkened. He reached up and turned the volume up even louder.

"_Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn't mean it, I just want you back for good. Want you back, want you back, want you back for good..."_

"Well," Matthew said with a weak smile, "Should I go down and grab him and ruin this humiliation once and for all or- Uh, Arthur? You okay?"

Arthur, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet for last few minutes, was still kneeling on his bed in front of the window, biting his lip, his face red, and his hands clenched over his heart. His eyes were wide and so focused on Alfred, an alien species could have been destroying the city and he wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

Matthew groaned, holding his head in his hands. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"_Whenever I'm wrong, just tell me the song and I'll sing it, you'll be right and understood. Want you back, want you back, want you back for good. I want you back for good!"_

Finally, Arthur let out a frustrated, muted cry and tore out of the room, just barely remembering to grab his lanyard from the hook next to his door on the way out. Matthew and Kiku exchanged surprised glances, before instantly jumping back to their places in front of the window. Below, Alfred was understandably a little surprised at the sudden disappearance of Arthur but continued to stand there with the boom box above his head, anyway.

And then, in far less time than it would normally take someone to run down three flights of stairs and out to the middle of the lawn, Arthur was running out to Alfred and throwing his arm's around him so fiercely, the boom box was almost sent flying to the ground, if not for a lucky catch from Alfred.

The onlookers applauded and cheered at the reunion, moving on with knowing smiles once Arthur started whacking Alfred in the head repeatedly, noting thing things finally back to normal and going on with their lives. From up above, Kiku and Matthew sighed.

"That really shouldn't have worked," Kiku decided.

"Don't question it," Matthew sighed, as the two down below entered the building together, the boom box left forgotten on the ground. "Don't ever question it."

"_And we'll be together, this time is forever, we'll be fighting, yes forever we will be. So complete in our love, we will never be uncovered again."_

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter was kinda pointless and stupid, but I got the idea and it WOULD NOT LEAVE MY MIND, so I wrote it and ya'll have to deal with it. XD The song is called "Back for Good" by the band Take That, which is very very British and very very 90's. XD It's a good song though, so shut up. XD<strong>

**Anyway, he next chapter will be less pointless, I promise. XD I'll try to get it up this week, but I have a college friend visiting me for a week, so I dunno how much time I'm going to have to write. I'LL TRY THOUGH! :D **

**Oh, and about their living arrangement. Alfred's freshman year and Arthur's sophomore year, they live in the dorms and are roommates, for the next two years, they move into on-campus apartments for four people, where they live with Matt and Kiku. They each have their own room, two bathrooms, and a kitchen/living room area. You'll see the apartment more as the story goes on. XD HOPE YOU LIKED! :D -Car**


	10. A Whale of a Tale

**Alfred- Freshman**  
><strong>Arthur- Sophomore <strong>

* * *

><p>It was roughly three in the afternoon on a Sunday when Arthur's world got flipped upside down.<p>

He was sitting at his desk, typing up a paper for his children's literature class and enjoying the sweet sound of Sunday (the only day in which everyone in the dorm was quiet enough, for whatever reason, for him to get any work done at all), when Matthew threw his dorm room door open and stared at him with an expression that oozed exasperation and apology.

"I tried to talk him out of it," he panted, as way of a warning, "but it was Uncle Tony's idea, so I didn't stand a chance."

Arthur closed his copy of _Charlotte's Web_ immediately and granted matthew his full attention. He had only met Uncle Tony once, when he had gone home with the Jones twins for Thanksgiving, and it had _not_ been a pleasant experience. He knew that whatever was about to enter through that door was not going to bode well for him.

"What," he demanded, "has Alfred brought with him?"

Matthew's eyes drifted down the hallway, where Alfred was, no doubt, making his way to the room. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied tiredly.

Somewhere down the hall, there was a crash, followed by a girlish shriek (Alfred) and a gruff voice cursing in Spanish (Matthew's roommate, Miguel). Arthur sighed, pushing back his chair and walking to the doorway. "I should honestly just wait until they get here and grant myself a few more moments of blissful ignorance, but I'm starting to fear for the safety of the building," he grumbled, poking his head into the hall.

Where he was met face to face with the biggest bloody aquarium he had ever seen.

His mind immediately sped through every worse case scenario he could think of.

Alfred and Matthew had left for the weekend on a "manly bonding fishing trip" with their father. Both Miguel and Arthur had been invited, but after finding out that Uncle Tony would be joining them, Arthur promptly refused. Alfred had pestered him for hours, as Miguel had readily agreed, and he and their Cuban teammate were hardly on good terms, but Arthur remained stubbornly adamant that he would _not_ spend a weekend with "that mental git" Uncle Tony, lest he wake up with concrete shoes on the bottom of the lake. Needless to say, Alfred had been forced to go on the trip without his roommate and Arthur had enjoyed a lovely weekend, allowed to live another day.

Had Alfred brought something to get back at Arthur for leaving him with Miguel for a whole weekend? He shuddered at the thought. Finally, Arthur forced himself to look past the tank and gaze at what was inside.

It was fish.

Not just any fish, however. At least, not any fish that you would expect to see in a college dormitory. Oh no, what was in that tank was no goldfish or beta; it was a big, silvery, brownish thing, with shiny scales, bulging eyes and a gaping mouth. It took up a good half of the tank, which considering the size of the tank, was quite a feat, and every couple of seconds or so, it would wave one of it's monstrous fins and drag it along the glass.

It was _hideous. _

"What the bloody hell is _THAT?_" Arthur exclaimed.

"I named him Whale!" Alfred chirped with a grin. "I caught him myself! Dad said he wasn't good for eatin' so I was gonna throw him back, but Uncle Tony reminded me that we're totally allowed to have fish in the dorms and we convinced Dad to let me keep him as a pet!"

"A _pet?_"

"Yeah!"

Arthur turned to Matthew and Miguel, silently begging them to tell him this was all some sick joke, but their faces remained unchanged.

"If it makes you feel better, Mom tried really hard to get him to drop the idea," Matt said, shaking his head. "But then she walked into the bathroom and saw that thing staring at her from in the tub, freaked out, and demanded he got it out of her house."

Alfred pouted. "Whale is not a _thing_."

"Yes it is," Miguel agreed with a nod. "An ugly, ugly thing. Like, _muy feo, amigo." _He took a deep breath. "Now can we put this down, _por favor?_ It's heavy as hell."

Arthur crossed his arms across his chest with a huff, just barely jumping out of the way as Alfred came barreling through the door with his end of the tank. He and Miguel unceremoniously placed (see: dropped) the tank onto Alfred's dresser and Alfred promptly started fiddling around with plug-ins and wires and gages.

"You aren't seriously considering keeping that thing in our room?" Arthur cried desperately. "There is no way Roderich would allow such a thing!"

Matthew tisked. "Oh trust me, he tried. Unfortunately, the rule is you can keep fish in the dorms, plain and simple." He glanced at the fish tank wearily. "There hasn't been any reason to make it any more specific."

Alfred and Miguel got to work setting up the fish tank. By the time they were done, the soft wurr of the filter filled the room, accompanied by the occasional bubbling of a little plastic treasure chest that just barely fit in the corner of the tank. Matthew and Miguel excused themselves back to their room, using homework and unpacking as an excuse to get as far away from that sea monster as possible. Arthur inwardly cursed his luck he couldn't go with them.

"Isn't he great, Artie?" Alfred asked, pressing his face against the glass of the tank. "I'm so excited we have a pet in the room! Ya know, they say people with pets live longer, because pets bring people so much joy!"

The fish tilted itself up slightly and stared at Arthur blankly. He blanched. "Right. Joy."

O

Whale had been living with Arthur and Alfred for about a week, and Arthur was feeling about as far from joyful as possible. The thing had an obnoxious little habit of _staring_ at him. When he was trying to do his homework, when he was getting dressed, and worst of all, when he was trying to sleep, Whale's unblinking eyes were always trained right on him, _staring._

Alfred had the top bunk, so he would never know just how unnerving having that fish stare at you while you tried to sleep was, which Arthur finally told him one morning after another fitful night of no sleep.

"Just," Alfred sighed, gesturing to the air and he grabbed his American football gear and threw it into his gym bag, "I dunno, face your back to him or something if it bothers you that badly!"

Arthur scoffed. "That doesn't stop it from _staring,_ Alfred! I can still feel his creepy eyes bore into the back of my head!"

"I'm not getting rid of him, Arthur!"

"Then move him, at least! Somewhere where he can stare at _you_ all night long, perhaps!"

They glared at each other for a few moments before Alfred finally gave in with a frustrated, muffled scream. "Fine!" he exclaimed, marching over to the wall, unplugging the tank, and lifting it into his arms with a grunt. Arthur's face finally dropped.

"W-wait, what the hell are you doing?" he cried. "That thing weighs a ton!"

"I'm moving him!" Alfred snapped as viciously as he could while carrying a large and heavy tank down the hallway.

Arthur followed closely behind, fussing here and there and jumping whenever it looked like Alfred might lose his grip. "Wha- I mean- Alfred! Where on Earth are you taking it?"

Alfred made a sudden left, kicking open the door to the public bathroom with a bang. "I'm taking _him_ in _here_, is that _okay_?"

Making sure the drain was plugged, he took a deep breath and flipped the tank over, dumping Whale and his water into the bathtub. With the tank now empty and much lighter, he sighed in relief and placed it down on the tiled floor. Arthur blinked owlishly as he bent down and filled the tub with more water until the fish was fully submerged.

"There," Alfred said, standing up and crossing his arms. "Now he wont stare at you anymore." He turned on his heel and walked out of the bathroom. "I gotta get to practice."

Arthur's mouth hung open. He sputtered out a few words before taking off after him down the hallway. "Alfred! Wait! You can just leave him in there!"

"Dude, no one ever uses the bathtub. Besides, now he has more room."

"But!" Arthur froze realizing he hadn't really thought his argument through, and wasn't even sure why he was arguing in the first place, to be completely honest. All he knew was that Alfred was upset and it was somewhat his fault. "Roderich will be angry," he finally settled on.

Alfred chuckled. "Then _he_ can move Whale back himself."

"Alfred-" Arthur cut himself off when Alfred turned to look at him over his shoulder with those big, blue eyes of his, hand holding the edge of the doorframe leading into their room. "You... If you really want a... companion so badly... there is always me."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Arthur..." he mumbled. Then suddenly, he grinned, sweeping down to grab his gym bag and swinging back out the door. "No way!"

Arthur watched his laughing and skipping form run down the hallway with a self-deprecating laugh. "Ah-ha...You bastard."

He wondered how long that damn fish would last if he drained all of it's water.

O

Later that night, the two were forced by Roderich to put Whale back in their room. Apparently, some of the residents had complained the thing had been staring at them while they tried to pee ("Imagine that!" "Oh, shut up!"), and if they didn't move it back, the resident director would be forced to remove it permanently.

Arthur refused to do most of the work, obviously, which left him on tank duty as Alfred wrestled around with the fish in the tub, trying to get a grip on it. After his third unsuccessful attempt, Alfred finally broke the silence, a coy smile on his handsome face.

"Ya know, Artie."

"What? And don't call me Artie. I hate that name."

Alfred laughed. "Okay, _Art_," he pointedly ignored Arthur's grumble before continuing, "I was just thinking, I wouldn't mind a _human_ companion every now and then. You know, if the offer still stands?"

Arthur coughed, the tank almost slipping from it's resting place between the sink and his hip in his shock. "_What?_"

Alfred shrugged, and if Arthur didn't know any better, he could almost swear he saw a slight pink tinge his cheeks. "You know, like... friends? I'll even let you cover Whale's tank at night or something. If he still freaks you out."

Arthur resumed filling up the fish tank, ensuring Alfred couldn't see the blush and stupid smile he had on his own face before nodding. "Yes. I think I would like that." He turned to face him when he knew it was safe to do so without dying of embarrassment. "But I would still rather you simply move him so he stares at you all the bloody time."

Alfred laughed, cursing as Whale escaped his grip once again. "Not gonna happen, dude, but nice try!"

Life in room 305 wasn't perfect, Arthur reasoned with himself that night amongst the wurr of the fish tank filter, now slightly muffled by the thick blanket resting on top of it.

But, he thought fondly as Alfred began to snore quietly above him, maybe things were going to get just a little bit better.

* * *

><p><strong>This will not be the last of Whale, I promise you. XD I don't have much to say on this chapter surprisingly... Hmm. I guess I can talk about Uncle Tony and the Thanksgiving adventure, which will be shown up in a later chapter. XD This chapter takes place not long after Thanksgiving, but before Christmas. Yes. Not much else to say! XD<strong>

**I think next chapter will finally get us a chance to see Alfred working out, so there is something to look forward to! :D I bet Arthur is excited for it too. XP**

**Anyway, until next time! Thanks so much for reading and thank you for the lovely reviews!  
>-Car <strong>


	11. Fools of April

**Alfred- Freshman**

**Arthur- Sophomore**

* * *

><p><em>One month.<em>

Arthur sighed contently, letting his mind drift along with his eyes up towards the clouds. One month left of school and he would be free for the summer.

Unless, of course, he made it to nationals. He would be there until the end of May in that case, but he didn't want to think about that. Not while the weather was so beautiful and he had a nice, long break before his class at one o'clock.

He thought about summer instead. True, he would be torn apart from his delicious roommate for three months, but they were currently in the running for a four-person, on-campus apartment along with Kiku and Matthew for the next year, and that was more than a little exciting. Plus, as hard as it was to admit, he did rather miss home. Not so much the weather, or Peter, or his menial, summer job at Yappy Hour Pets and Pet Accessories, but because it was home, and there was always something nice about going home.

He chipped into the dormitory and leaned heavily against the wall as he waited for the elevator. It took it's time as usual before the squeaky doors opened and allowed him to be taken up to his floor. Maybe he would take a short nap? It was only nine-fifty, he could sleep for a bit and wake up early enough to be ready for lunch. He just hoped that Alfred wasn't going to be loud and keep him awake.

He switched his books into his other arm and dug through his pockets for his lanyard to open the door. He was so busy thinking about his surely blissful nap, that he nearly couldn't stop himself in time from grabbing the slimy condom pulled taught over his doorknob.

"Ugh!" he cried, dropping his lanyard in shock. "What the _hell?_" He threw his head back and forth, his eyes narrowing into an angry glare. "Okay, who the fuck was it?" he exclaimed. Someone yelled out "your mom!" from a room down the hallway and Arthur rolled his eyes.

Sticking out his tongue in disgust, Arthur was able to pull the condom off with a pair of pencils and deposited it in the bathroom garbage. He washed his hands three times for good measure.

"Alfred, did you see that foul- what the...?"

Everything on Arthur's side of the room was incased in think layers of cling wrap. His bed, his desk, his computer, all of his books (individually wrapped, he noted, in bewildered amusement), even his mini-fridge had been totally and completely wrapped up in sheets of plastic.

Out of the corner of his eye, a rather Alfred-shaped lump on the top bunk shook with muffled laughter.

"ALFRED F. JONES! He exclaimed. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"APRIL FOOLS!" Alfred sang, jumping up in bed so fast he nearly toppled himself right out of it. "What do you think?"

"I think you've gone mad!"

Alfred laughed, safely climbing down from his bunk. "Aw, come on, it's April Fools Day, dude! Don't be such a spoil sport!"

Arthur's face instantly darkened. That would explain the condom then. "I hate this bloody holiday," he seethed.

Last year, Francis decided to take it upon himself to chop off all of Arthur's brilliantly long hair. He didn't care how much Francis told him it made him look like a fuzzy, gold caterpillar and that he was doing him a favor, he knew he looked cool.

Plus, the penis drawn on his forehead with a permanent marker was pretty awful, as well. It was there for _days_.

He still had a sneaking suspicion Gilbert had been the mastermind behind that one.

"Hey, I'm gonna go steal people's towels from the showers," Alfred positively giggled. "Wanna come with?"

"Pass," he replied curtly. "There is no way I'm taking part in such a positively juvenile holiday. If you need me, I will be taking a nap-" he froze, remembering his bed was currently out of order as soon as he spun to face it. "-on the futon," he finished, "because you will be cleaning up this mess as soon as humanly possible."

Alfred groaned childishly. "Awww, Artie, don't be so boring! It'll be totally fun!"

Arthur looked up from fluffing up a pillow on the futon to shoot his roommate an incredulous look. "Fun? How is encouraging our dorm-mates to run about the hallways in the nude, _fun?_"

"Cause naked people are funny?" He shrugged. "Please? It wont be fun without you!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Artieeeeee" he whined, making Arthur wince. Honestly, if that boy wasn't so cute, he would have offed him months ago. "Pleeeeeease?"

He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, if I said no _before_, what would make you think I would be inclined to join you when you act like a spoilt _child_?"

"Antonio's in there right now."

"...Fine."

O

Alfred didn't know Arthur could be so... fun!

He wasn't sure why, but apparently seeing Antonio poking halfway out of a shower, yelling for Gilbert to bring him a towel and Gilbert standing in the doorway laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes, was enough to open some kind of can of worms of funness in his stuffy little British roommate. He had skipped class, even encouraged Alfred to do the same, and they had preceded to spend the entire day pulling pranks on the whole campus.

They ordered ten sauceless, cheeseless pizzas with extra mushrooms and sausage to be delivered to Rome and Germania in the coach's office, stolen every towel from every bathroom in the boys (and girls, for that matter. Alfred wasn't about to ask Arthur how he managed to get them in there) dormitories, convinced Feliks One Direction had broken up to become silent film stars, and replaced all the sugar in the professor's lounge with salt, all before they had to go to track practice at five o'clock that evening.

Alfred wasn't sure what happened over on the other side of the track where the distance runners was doing repeat 400's, just that pole vaulting was over there was well, and when practice was over, Arthur looked positively conniving.

"Cancel all of your plans for the remainder of the evening," he said quietly in Alfred's ear as they walked to dinner. "We're paying Francis a little visit tonight."

Alfred blinked. This was either going to end very badly, or be totally epic. He wasn't sure which.

O

"Okay, so...What?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes dangerously at Alfred. "Have you not been listening for the entirety of our drive over here?"

"Of course I was! I just...missed the part where you told me what we were doing, is all."

He sighed. "To put it simply enough for you to understand, we are going to_ trash_ the place."

Alfred bit his lip and glanced over at Francis's house. It wasn't exactly a nice house, per se, but they were in college and it had a perfect area in the basement for beer pong, so it was practically a mansion. "He'll catch us."

"Ah, not if he's not home, he wont." Arthur was grinning mischievously, and despite how new and exciting (and kinda hot, if Alfred was going to be totally honest) it was, it frightened him a little to see this new side of him. "A little birdie told me he and the other twats are out causing trouble on campus. He wont be back until well into the night."

"And if someone calls the cops on us?" He asked, still not one hundred percent comfortable with such a serious prank.

Arthur smiled. "You're a runner, aren't you lad?" he questioned playfully. Alfred nodded. "So _run_."

O

Overall, Alfred thought they had done a pretty damn good job toilet papering the place. Arthur had pulled a bulk package of cheap toilet paper out of seemingly nowhere ("Seriously, dude, where the hell did that even come from?"), and they had gotten to work. At this point, not a single bit of the blue of the house was visible, nor the driveway, yard, and even the car Francis had so foolishly not taken with him back to World U.

"That ought to do it," Arthur boasted proudly, stepping back in inspect their handiwork. "Now, let's go inside."

Alfred coughed. "_Inside?_ I thought we were just gonna TP, or like, egg it or something! What are we doing _inside?_"

"I told you we were going to trash the place, did I not?"

"Well yeah, but-Dude! What the _fuck_ are you _doing?_"

Arthur was crouched over at Francis's door, pushing the toilet paper aside and fiddling around with something at the doorknob. He hadn't done this in awhile, but surely he could still—_click! "_Brilliant!"

They rushed through the door together, Alfred grumbling about being arrested and _where did Arthur even get a bobby pin, anyway? Where was all this shit coming from?_ Arthur shushed him of course, reminding him that they were not going to get arrested, they'll just eat his food or something, so shut the bloody hell up.

They walked into the kitchen, the house seeming quieter now that they were there without Francis, and Arthur flicked on a light. "Go on, there is probably some kind of too-sweet pastry in the fridge, knowing the frog."

Alfred cheered, opening the fridge and pulling out a rich looking eclair cake, covered in foil. "Aw, fuck yeah!" he cried, pulling a couple forks out of a drawer and placing the cake on the center island in front of Arthur. "Care to join me?"

"I'd rather starve that eat anything that twit made," Arthur snubbed.

Alfred chuckled, slipping a forkful of cake into his mouth and moaning in a way that made Arthur blush to ears. "Oh my _God_, Arthur! You _have_ to try some of this shit!"

"That's quite alright," he argued, pushing Alfred's offered fork away from his face. "Alfred, enough!"

"Dude, it's delicious! Francis will never even know you liked it!" he laughed, going at Arthur's mouth again with the fork.

"Stop it you, git!" Arthur cried, slapping the fork away and straight into Alfred's face.

Alfred squeaked, frantically wiping the pudding and chocolate from his eyes. "Damnit, bro, what the Hell?" he demanded, though there was more amusement to his voice than anger. "What a waste of perfectly good- are you _laughing?_"

Arthur shook his head frantically, the hands coving his grinning mouth and crinkled eyes concealing nothing. "Y-you have a bit of gram cracker in your hair," he said through his giggles. Alfred narrowed his eyes with a cat-like grin.

"Oh, this is funny to you?" he asked, sticking his fork back in to the cake and wigging it around in the air. Arthur frantically shook his head. "I think this is funny to you! C'mon, hold still so you can see just how funny it is!"

Arthur screamed, dodging out of the way just in time before Alfred launched the cake in his direction. "Stop it!"

"I thought you thought this was funny!"

They continued to toss large handfuls of the cake at each other across the kitchen, laughing and falling all over each other in a fit of giggles.

"Alfred Jones, you stop that this instant! You're getting cake everywhere!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "We came to trash the house, didn't we? Ha!" A large chunk of cake landed directly in the center of Arthur's forehead. "Woo! Two points!"

Arthur swiped his hand across his forehead and stuck out in tongue in disgust. "Yes, yes, well done. Finish your cake so we can be off. This place is a disaster."

The freshman crinkled his nose. "Dude, I'm not getting in my car all covered in pudding and shit." He picked a broken gram cracker off his pants. "Blah. You're all covered too, we are _not_ getting in my car like this."

Arthur looked down and realized for the first time what a mess he was. "Well, what do you suppose we do about it?"

"We could steal some of Francis's clothes. He's got two showers in here, right?"

Arthur flushed for some reason. "I-I believe he does, yes."

Alfred beamed. "Perfect!" He skipped off to Francis's room, Arthur following close behind. After a few minutes of searching for things in his closet that would fit (for Alfred) and weren't too flashy (for Arthur), they parted ways. They promised they would be out in five minutes tops and meet in the living room so they could be out of the house and in the car before Francis got back.

Arthur slipped into the bathroom and placed his new clothes on the toilet before climbing into the shower. He washed himself quickly, for some reason getting nervous that Francis would arrive soon. Once he didn't smell quite so much like pudding, he turned off the water and reached out from behind the curtain to grab his clothes.

And found they were mysteriously missing.

He was going to _kill _Alfred.

Arthur tore back the shower curtain and grabbed for his towel, infinitely thankful Alfred had not taken that as well. He quickly checked the mirror, successfully confirming that, why yes, he did look as ridiculous as he thought he would, and ran a hand through is damp hair anyway. He kicked open the door and stomped in the direction of the loud, obnoxious laugher in the living room.

"Alfred, I swear, if you don't give me back my clothes, I'll-"

And he froze, because Alfred wasn't wearing any clothes either, apparently in such a rush to steal Arthur's clothes, he forgot to put his on as well. Arthur immediately flushed, suddenly self conscience of his pale and scrawny body in light of Alfred's toned and tan one (how the bloody hell does one have a tan in _April_, anyway?), and he thanked the heavens he at least had a towel around his waist, lest he actually faint.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he cried, clutching his towel even tighter and throwing his other hand over his eyes.

Alfred laughed. "Like I would let you off easy today!"

"Cling wrapping my entire room wasn't enough for you?"

"Oh yeah, I did that this morning didn't I?"

"Alfred!"

The boy laughed. "Aw, it was just a little joke! I left 'em with mine in the bathroom, c'mon, I'll grab 'em and we can-"

_Click._

They stopped still. That had definitely been a click.

And it had definitely come from the door.

They immediately jumped into action, Arthur sprinting toward the bathroom to grab his clothes before being stopped in his tracks by Alfred. "There's no time!" he cried, grabbing his hand. "RUN!"

They ran through the kitchen, Alfred slipping on a bit of eclair cake on the floor but recovering at the last minute, and barged through the back door. Arthur allowed himself a little bit of relief when he heard the front door open just as he slammed it shut. They hopped over the fence, Arthur almost loosing his towel on various occasions, and sprinted down the street as fast as they could with bare feet. They didn't stop until they reached Alfred's car, parked a good bit away, in case of just such an emergency.

By the time they reached the car, they couldn't tell if they couldn't catch their breath from running or from laughing. Arthur fell across the hood, couching to cover up his gasps, and Alfred leaned his back next to him and wiped a lone tear from his eyes.

Their eyes met, and for just a second they allowed the other to keep his gaze. Neither had felt so happy in a long time.

"We should probably get back," Alfred said with a smile. "The last thing we need is someone to see out here like this." he laughed and adjusted his towel, Arthur blushed when it rested just a bit lower. "I'm freezing my balls off!"

"Yes, yes," Arthur agreed, clearing his throat. "Let's get on then, don't need you getting sick."

They rode back to the school with the radio on low as they speculated what Francis might have looked like when he saw his house had been TPed, and then that his cake had apparently exploded all over his kitchen. After parking the car, they made a mad dash back to the dorm, relived that only about twelve people had for sure seen them. It was only when they got to their door that their giggling sobered slightly.

Their door had been covered with cling wrap, and the space left between the door and the plastic had been filled with popcorn. Alfred snorted.

"Not that I felt bad about it before, but I definitely don't regret trashing Francis's house now."

Arthur shook his head, ripping down the wrapping and letting the popcorn fall all over the floor. "I'll vacuum this up," he sighed, stepping over the pile and into the room. "It beats a permanent marker penis, at least."

"_What?_"

Arthur smirked. "Don't worry about it, lad. Happy April Fools Day."

* * *

><p><strong>SO FUN STORY. Last night I was talking to simplytrop, telling her how I was writing the next chapter, and she used her crazy mind games to make me put aside the chapter I had been working on ALL WEEK and write a whole new chapter in less that 24 hours in honor of April Fools Day. So that's where this came from. XD Thank her.<strong>

**Anyway, Happy April Fools Day to all of you! The next chapter (that should have been THIS chapter) will probably be up later this week! :D I hope you enjoyed! **

**-Car**


	12. Lifting Spirits

**Alfred- Sophomore**

**Arthur- Junior**

* * *

><p>The distance runners walked through the door, numb but sweating after an upbeat five mile run in the cold. Arthur sniffed loudly, cursing and striding to the bathroom in search of something to wipe his dripping nose. The girls would be back in a few minutes for stretches and abs and he wanted his nose to stop bloody dripping all over the place by then.<p>

When he entered back into the gym, the sprinters were just rounding the corner on the tiny, indoor track they were forced to practice on in the winter, and judging by their breathing, they were coming toward the end of a rather intense workout. Arthur joined back with the other distance runners, pushed to the corner of the room and out of the way.

"What did they have for practice today?" he asked the others. They all shrugged.

"Something fucking brutal," Gilbert sneered. "Golden Boy's even having a hard time keeping up."

At the mention of Alfred, Arthur turned his attention back to the sprinters and, sure enough, caught Alfred finishing at the back of the pack. He ended the lap by unceremoniously running into the upright high jump mat they had pushed against the wall for padding and punched it viciously. Arthur cringed.

"Finals have taken a toll on him this semester," he mumbled by way of an explanation. Across the track, Germania was walking purposefully toward Alfred, his arms crossed and a sour expression on his face. "He's hardly had a wink of sleep these past few days."

Toris pulled off his hat with a nod. "Yes, the science department makes sophomore year the hardest to weed out the weak. I remember forgetting to sleep during half of finals week last year because I was studying so much. Feliks had to force me to bed on more than one occasion."

"I remember that," Eduard agreed, sitting on the floor to stretch out his legs. "You looked horrible."

"Thank you," Toris sighed, rolling his eyes. "But I imagine that Alfred has it even worse. Astrophysics is probably much more difficult than biology."

Arthur bit his lip, watching as Alfred threw his hands in the air in frustration while he spoke angrily with Germania across the track. Germania appeared to yell something back, causing Alfred to storm off in the other direction, slamming his fist into the wall for good measure as he went. Arthur sighed.

"Wonderful," he groaned, as Alfred stormed past the distance girls as they walked through the door and went straight to the hallway leading to the weight room.

Lien crinkled her nose at his rude behavior and joined the rest of the team. "What's _his_ problem?" she asked.

"Bad practice," Gilbert explained. "He's off to go break shit now."

"Pssst, Arthur, Toris!" The boy's heads turned to face Rome, who was waving them over urgently. "Come here for a second, _s__ì_?"

They shrugged at each other and walked over. "What is it, coach?" Arthur asked.

Rome fiddled with his hands nervously. "Alfred went to go let off some steam in the weight room," he explained. "You know as well as I do that it is best to just let him do his thing when he is upset, but...there is a bit of a _problema_."

"What problem?" Toris asked, looking just a bit nervous. Rome ran a hand through his curly hair.

"Elláda is taking the throwers in to lift today, too."

Instantly, both Toris and Arthur's faces fell. Elláda Karpusi, or Mama G, as she was affectionally known by the throwers, was an Olympic-class discus and javelin thrower from Greece. She had long since retired, but had graciously offered her talents to the World U track program after her son, Heracles, was accepted on scholarship. She was a lovely, albeit terrifying, woman who had coached the World U throwers to perfection with an iron fist.

But she wasn't what the boys were worried about.

As intimidating as Mama G could be, there was something much worse that her presence in the weight room meant.

And that, was Ivan Braginski.

No one knew how it started; if it was an argument or a snide comment or simply just a look between the two, but one thing was for certain: Ivan and Alfred did _not _get along. It wasn't that they would break out into fist fights in the middle of the quad or try to run each other over in the parking lot or anything, but they had their own unique ways of showing how little they thought of each other. Usually in, what Arthur considered, pointless, stupid little competitions.

Their favorite was in the weight room.

Needless to say, the last time both Alfred and Ivan were in the weight room at the same time, they had caused almost $500 worth of damages.

It was no wonder Rome looked so fidgety.

"So, you see, I was, ah, wondering if you two would just go and make sure nothing bad happens?" he asked desperately.

How could they say no?

O

It was a general rule of thumb that the saying "a fish out of water" was synonymous with "a distance runner in a weight room," a fact that Arthur had simply learned to accept.

It wasn't that distance runners weren't their own, special brand of strong, but the rippling, bulging muscles typically owned by the rest of the team just were not necessary for their races. A distance or mid-distance runner focused on staying trim and toned, and there was simply no need to do much _in_ the weight room when most of the exercises that helped them could be done _out_ of it.

That being said, Arthur found he was pretty much the poster boy for the rule.

Something about the loud, screaming, heavy metal music that was constantly blaring at about ten times the appropriate volume acceptable for a learning institution, and the scathing clank of metal on metal just did not sit well with him. In fact, there was probably only one thing that could make him feel at ease in a weight room, and that was-

"_Arragh!_"

Alfred.

Not just any Alfred, Arthur reminded himself as he encouraged his lungs to _breathe_, _damnit_, but weight-lifting, sweaty, compression-shirt-wearing, breathing hard and grunting loudly, _Alfred_.

It was one of the most unintentionally erotic things Arthur ever had the pleasure to witness, and he thanked the heavens for it every moment he had the chance.

Alfred hardly ever got angry. It was something Arthur really admired about him, especially as a well-known hot head, and he respected him a great deal for his laid back attitude. However, just because he didn't get mad often, it didn't mean he never got mad at all. When Alfred got mad, it wasn't for long, as long as he had a way to outlet his feelings. Sometimes he would eat, or play violent video games, and often, he would run or go to the weight room and lift. Whatever he would do, he always finished his usually cheerful self.

At the current moment, Alfred was just finishing up on the bench. Beads of sweat were dripping down his temples and tangling in his messy, blond hair. He was breathing heavily the moment he placed the bar back and he stayed laying down, catching his breath for a few moments before sitting up abruptly and walking over to the leg press. He wiped his face down with the hem of his tight, dark grey shirt, giving the room a view of those tanned, toned abs.

"Why don't you put your tongue back in your mouth, lover boy?"

Arthur jumped, spinning to face Elizabeta, who was grinning cat-like behind him. "E-excuse me?" he gasped.

"Put your tongue back in your mouth," she repeated with a laugh. "You're drooling all over the floor."

Arthur coughed in embarrassment as Toris chuckled goodheartedly. "Hello Elizabeta. Are all of the throwers lifting today?" he asked.

Se nodded, tossing her hair out of her eyes and swiping a dumbbell from the shelf. "Yep. Which reminds me, what the hell are _you two_ doing in here?"

"Alfred had a bad practice," Arthur replied, ignoring the obvious dig at his lack of physical strength. "Rome wanted us to keep him and Ivan from causing too much damage."

"Oh, good idea." She nodded, peaking over her shoulder where Ivan was getting strict stance advice from Mama G at the squat machine. "Just make sure Ivan doesn't get wind that Alfred is in a bad mood. He'd be all over that like white on rice."

Elizabeta sauntered off, literally kicking a sleeping Heracles off the bench press and taking his place. Toris and Arthur sighed. "Well, what do you suppose we do?" Arthur asked.

Toris shrugged. "We could split up, I suppose. One of us could go with Ivan, the other with Alfred, and we could keep them separate-"

"I'll take Alfred," Arthur cried, sprinting across the room. Toris blinked, watching his flee with a sigh.

"I probably should have seen that coming."

O

Alfred had moved on to the rowing machine, his movements making it obvious that his anger had yet to be cooled. The peg on the machine had been lowered all the way to the bottom so that he was lifting the most weight possible, and his movements were erratic and jerky. And if he was going to be completely honest with himself, if Arthur wasn't so turned on by the grunts and growls Alfred was making every time he yanked the handle back into his chest, he would have scolded him for being so loud and obnoxious.

Instead, he awkwardly stood behind him and cleared his throat. "Hello Alfred, did you need a spotter?"

The heavy pile of weights fell back to their resting place. Alfred peaked behind him and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Artie? Dude, what are you doing in here?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. Would no one mock him for his lack of muscles today? "Rome told me I needed to do some ankle strengthening drills and I've finished, so I thought I would see if you required any assistance."

"Ah, nah, I'm good bro." He stretched out his arms and gave the first smile Arthur had seen from him all day. "Don't really need a spotter for row, ya know." He chuckled. "Not sure how much you would help me anyway."

"Oh, do shut up," Arthur grumbled. Alfred laughed, standing up from the machine. He glanced behind himself cautiously to make sure Mama G wasn't watching, and whipped off his shirt. He sighed in relief, using it to dap the sweat off his face.

"It's hot as Hell in here, dude. Someone needs to turn on the air conditioning, stat."

Arthur nodded, unable to do much else with Alfred's half-naked body on display right in front of him, all tan and sweaty and perfect...

Maybe he should start lifting more.

"Jones!" Mama G yelled from the door of her office, instantly gathering all of the room's occupant's attention. "Put your clothes back on, this is a public area! No one wants to see that!"

Before Arthur could argue that, why yes, there was most certainly someone who wanted to see that thank-you-very-much, Alfred rolled his eyes and did as he was told with a pout. The only thing keeping Arthur from pouting as well, was the fact that Toris was currently making wide, deer-in-headlights eyes at him from where he was helping Ivan put put a medicine ball away.

Ivan knew Alfred was in the room.

Bugger.

Alfred wandered over to the cleaning platform next, casually mentioning that Arthur could keep an eye on his form, for no other reason than to make Arthur feel useful, he was sure, and set to work putting weights on the bar. Biting his lip, Arthur took a quick peek across the room at Ivan, just to make sure he hadn't decided to come-

"Well, this is unexpected surprise!"

Double bugger.

O

Alfred finished slipping the twenty-five pound weight onto the bar before standing up and regarding his newest companion with a sigh. Figured as soon as Arthur showed up to brighten his horrible day a little, Ivan would come along and ruin everything once again. "Hey there, Braginski. To what do I owe the displeasure?"

Ivan smiled that deceptively pleasant smile of his and giggled childishly. "You are so funny! I just came to see if Arthur was in here working on his shin splints like Toris. I was so surprised to see them join us today, I knew it had to be for an important reason!"

Arthur coughed. "It was ankle strengthening, actually."

"Oh, those are very important too," Ivan agreed, still smiling. Alfred narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, well, now that that is all taken care of, I'm gonna do some cleans." He brushed passed the Russian and situated himself on the platform, eager for Braginski to leave him alone. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his games today. "So if you would be so kind as to move your blubbery self out of my way I'd-"

"This also confuses me," Ivan interrupted. "What are _you_ doing in here, Jones? Is it not Monday and Wednesday that the sprinters come in to lift?" He chuckled. "If what you all do could be considered _lifting,_ anyway."

Alfred glared, grinding his teeth to keep from exploding. "I needed to let off a little steam."

Ivan nodded. "Ah, I see." And then he sat down on an empty bench and grinned at him knowingly.

"Can I _help_ you?" Alfred finally cried, finding it difficult to keep cool with the weight of his horrible workout and Braginski staring at him like a creeper.

"Oh, I was intending to use cleaning platform as well," he said easily. "We can take turns, _da_?"

Alfred rolled his eyes, but fought back the urge to tell Ivan exactly what he could do with the fucking platform when he met eyes with Arthur. Somehow, his roommate always knew when Alfred was about to do something stupid and managed to convey though his eyes to _cool down and just share the bloody thing before someone gets hurt_. Alfred nodded, told Braginski that it was fine, and returned to his lifting, ignoring the thrower to the best of his ability.

To Alfred's surprise, things were actually working out better than he had imagined. He found that if he put all his attention on Arthur, it was almost liked Braginski disappeared.

Not that he didn't have enough practice focusing his attention on Arthur, of course, but it was kind of fun having him in the weight room for a change. He knew Arthur wasn't exactly one to be impressed by his, and he quoted, "stupid, moronic caveman strength," but seeing his eyes light up with what could only be admiration every time he lifted that bar into his chest, was almost enough to make him forget about the shitty workout and even shittier company.

Until it was Braginski's turn again and he started adding weight onto the bar.

"What's up, Braginski?" Alfred asked with a chuckle. "Ready for your last round already?"

The Russian laughed. "Do not be so silly, Jones! That was all my warm up!"

His _warm up?_

"Your _warm up?_" Arthur gasped. He and Toris were eyeing the bar wearily, probably doing the math in their heads to see if the thing weighed more than they did.

It did. _Combined._

"I like to do a few easy repetitions with a light weight before I get into actually lifting," he explained, stepping up on the platform and gripping the bar firmly. "It helps to get the blood flowing, _da?_"

And then he lifted the bar with ease, the ends of it bending towards the floor slightly under the weight.

"Wow," Toris mumbled. Arthur nodded in agreement, his eyes wide.

"Wow indeed. I didn't realize Ivan was that strong."

Alfred froze, Arthur's words running mockingly through his brain.

Aw _HELL _NO.

"He's not so strong," Alfred growled, pushing Ivan off the platform as soon as the bar hit the ground. "I bet I can lift it, no problem."

Toris's eyebrows furrowed. "Alfred, are you certain about this?"

"Absolutely." He planted his feet and gave one last glance in Arthur's direction. The Briton's eyes were alight with nervousness and excitement, and as far as Alfred was concerned, that was all the strength he needed.

"And that," Arthur scoffed, sitting in a hard, plastic chair in Rome's office next to a shaken Toris and an ashamed looking Ivan and Alfred, "is how the entire shelf of dumbbells was knocked over."

Rome rubbed his temples, sharing an exasperated look with Germania before sighing. "Alright. _Graize,_ Arthur. You may all leave."

"Do you, like, want us to help clean up or anything?" Alfred asked, wringing his hands together. Rome frantically shook his head.

"No, no, I think you all have done enough. _A__rrivederci._" The four boys walked out of the office with their heads low, save for Arthur who was giving Alfred and Ivan an earful. He shook his head. "What am I going to do with them?"

Germania shrugged. "You recruited them, not me."

"Don't remind me."

Later that week, a strict schedule had been posted outside the weight room door, dictating when Ivan and Alfred were allowed to enter.

It took five months and 742 more dollars before they finally started following it

* * *

><p><strong>Some harmless fun picking on distancemid-distance runners in this one. In all seriousness, I was a distance runner all through college and I will admit, we are NOT the strongest people in the world. XD That "distance runner in a weight room" line was actually used on me by a coach when I was flopping around on the ground, trying to lift once. XD**

**Also, yay for the throwers! A few of you have asked me about the throwers, so here is a taste of them. I admire throwers so much. A a distance runner, I can hardly LIFT the things they throw around like nothing, so bravo to them. :P**

**Anyway, hoping to get a little plot in the next chapter, but I make no promises. XD Thanks for the wonderful reviews and I hope you all had a great holiday!  
>-Car <strong>


	13. The Smell of Success

**Alfred- Junior**

**Arthur- Senior**

* * *

><p>They got home from the meet at exactly ten past midnight.<p>

The four roommates dragged themselves into the apartment; Matt quick to grab a change of clothes and was off again to Kat's apartment, Kiku straight to the sink to wash up before stalking into his room and closing the door for the night, Arthur to _his_ room to grab his towel and pajamas and heading to the bathroom to shower, and Alfred...

Alfred fell onto the couch in the living room and didn't move.

Arthur scoffed, stopping quickly in the kitchen to make sure his left-over snacks were put away before he washed himself. "Honestly, Alfred? You're not even going to shower, or go to _your room_, for that matter?"

"Too tired," Alfred moaned, snuggling deeper into the couch for good measure. "Room far away. Alfred stay here."

"Charming." Arthur closed the refrigerator and stood condescendingly behind the armrest the American was using as a make-shift pillow. "You're not even going to brush your teeth?"

"Nope."

Arthur scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Fine. Willow away in your own filth for all I care."

"Kay."

Arthur showered rather quickly, his own tiredness catching up with him as the warm water soothed him into relaxation. Once he was dressed, he poked his head into the living room, sure enough finding Alfred exactly as he had left him, only now with the addition of some documentary on the _Food Network_ about sea salt chocolates.

"You'll get your fat arse up to turn on the telly but not to _go to bed_?" he asked.

Alfred pointed to the remote, laying haphazardly on the floor next to Alfred's fingertips. "Didn't havta get up."

"Goodnight, _Alfred_," Arthur snapped, making sure to smack Alfred in the head with his damp towel and earning a childish, whiney moan for his trouble. Smirking, he finished getting ready for bed.

And that blanket that he snuck onto Alfred before turning off the TV and finally, actually going to bed was not for him, just so you know. Arthur just didn't wan't to have to listen to Alfred complaining about his horrible night of sleep the next morning.

That's all.

The fact that Alfred looked fucking handsome when he slept had nothing to do with it.

O

Arthur was putting dishes away in the kitchen, wasting time until the cafeteria opened for brunch, when the lump on the couch let out a gruff, disgusted groan.

"Good morning sunshine," he quipped, blinking back in surprise as Alfred started coughing and hacking wildly, throwing the blanket off of himself, and ultimately rolling off the couch and landing on the floor with a thump. Arthur of course, found this hilarious." The _hell _is wrong with you?" he asked between laughs.

Alfred's horrified face popped up again over the top of the couch, looking so confused and adorable, Arthur could do nothing else but laugh even harder. "UGH!" Alfred exclaimed. "Oh my- ARG! Stop laughing! I just woke myself up with my own _stench!"_

Arthur cleared his throat, wiping his eye with one last little snort. "You did _what_ now?" he asked, clearly still amused. Alfred pouted.

"I woke up because I smelled something really funky, and it was _me!_" he cried in disbelief, sticking his nose into the collar of his shirt and coughing again. "Holy sh-_Ugh_!"

Arthur shook his head, leaning over the counter sassily and shaking his head sadly. "I told you to wash up before bed, but you wouldn't listen," he sang.

"Dude, I didn't think it would be this bad!" He pulled his shirt off over his head, and Arthur could _almost_ forgive the fact that he then sniffed at his own armpit, at that sight of his delicious chest. "Man, I am RANK right now. Check this shit out."

Which was when he made a beeline for Arthur; his armpit bared and aimed directly at Arthur's face.

Arthur (understandably) shrieked, ducking out of the way, and sprinting down the hallway as fast as he could. "Get that bloody thing away form me, you twat!" he exclaimed, Alfred close behind.

"C'mon take a whiff!" he laughed, lunging at Arthur. Thankfully for the Brit, Kiku chose this moment to open his door to see what was causing such a racket, and that was just enough of a distraction that Alfred fell just short of his target, landing on the floor with a crash. Arthur whooped victoriously at the end of the hallway.

"I will not ask," Kiku mumbled, quickly stepping over Alfred and walking stoically down the hallway.

He had learned a long time ago not to question most things that went on in their apartment.

* * *

><p><strong>So the next chapter is taking longer than I expected it would, but I didn't want to make you guys wait too long for a chapter so I wrote up this derpy little thing! I totally woke myself up with my own stink once when I was too lazy to shower after a meet. It was gross. XD<strong>

**Anyway, keep a lookout for the next chapter! It's gonna have PLOT! :DDD**

**-Car**


	14. Arthur Turns 21 Part 1

**Alfred- Sophomore**

**Arthur- Junior**

* * *

><p>Alfred didn't like this. He didn't like this one fucking bit.<p>

The majority of Arthur's birthday had been fairly respectable and expected; Francis had taken Arthur and himself out for lunch at the local PinappleBees where they both enjoyed fishbowl sangrias while Alfred drank four glasses of coke, then it was back home to enjoy the red velvet cake Matthew and Katyusha whipped up that morning, and watched the girly and stupid chick flick Kiku had given Arthur as a present as per his request.

The whole team got together and ate a mediocre dinner in the Student Activity Center, and then it was pre-gaming in the apartment with all of the other twenty-one year olds until Gilbert gave the signal that it was time to hit the bars.

After a strict run-down of precautions from Alfred ("Remember to call me if you need _anything_, okay? Don't try walking home, or getting a ride from someone you don't know, I'll be ready to pick you up. Don't worry about the time, just _call me."_), the whole gang, led by a far too enthusiastic Elizabeta, marched out the door, Arthur giving nothing but a quick thank you and wave to Alfred before being pushed into the hallway.

That had been almost an hour ago, and so far Alfred had managed to take his math homework out of his backpack, eat about half a bag of Doritos, and watch one and a half episodes of _The Big Bang Theory_ and about ten minutes of _Chopped_. He couldn't get his mind off the fact that Arthur was out there at the bar, without him to keep him out of trouble.

It wasn't like Arthur had never drank before; he had been able to drink legally in England for years. In fact, that was the bulk of the problem; Alfred had _seen_ Arthur drunk and knew very well what it was like. The guy would drape himself all over total strangers, cry hysterically into long island ice teas, and start fistfights, all within the span of barely one hour. He was kind of a mess.

And he _really_ needed to stop thinking about it.

Which was how he ended up on the first floor, standing in front of Katyusha, Natalia, Elizabeta, and Emma's apartment door at eleven thirty at night.

"Where's Matt?" Alfred demanded, pushing past Katyusha as soon as she opened the door.

The girl blinked a few times and shut the door quietly behind her. "He is in my room," she explained, worriedly. "Is something the matter, Alfred?"

"Yes. Well, okay, no, not really... Ugh, which room is your's again?"

"It is the first door on the left." She hurried after him, giggling at bit when he kicked open the door to reveal Matthew curled up in her bright pink and yellow blankets, regarding his twin brother with a deadpan glare.

"Is this is about Arthur, I swear-"

"But Mattieeee, he's alone and probably getting molested as we speak!"

Katyusha was by his side in an instant. "Oh Alfred, sit down," she cooed. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Kat, don't encourage him. He's being stupid."

She pointedly ignored him and continued on, guiding Alfred to her desk chair and sitting him down. "Are you worried about Arthur being out drinking tonight?" she asked in a caring, motherly tone.

Alfred nodded, a big, overdramatic pout on his lips. Katyusha's eyes watered at the sight of it.

"You are so sweet!" she cried, wrapping him up in a tight hug. Alfred broke his pout for a brief moment to shoot his twin a lewd eyebrow wiggle, and was rewarded with a casual flip of his middle finger before going back to being depressed. Katyusha held him out at arm's length, her big, watery eyes set determinedly. "I will call Elizabeta right away, _da?_ I will tell her to make sure he stays safe!"

"Aw, Kat, you're the best!" Alfred cheered, hugging her again.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, now that you feel all better, get out."

"But we were just about to talk about our _feelings_," Alfred joked with a smirk. Katyusha giggled.

"OUT."

Alfred walked back up the stairs to his apartment, still a little paranoid but a lot more confident knowing that Liz would be keeping her eyes on Arthur. Plus, Kat had snuck him a pint of cookie dough ice cream when Matt wasn't looking, so that totally helped too. He ended up sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket watching old sitcom re-runs until about one in the morning when he started to hear a clatter in the hallway.

There was a loud thump on the door, followed immediately by faint giggling and a few other, smaller thumps. The tell-tale fumbling of someone trying and failing to chip into the apartment came soon after, when finally, the door swung open and Arthur came tumbling in after.

Alfred chuckled a little along with his obviously intoxicated roommate, making to stand up and help the poor guy up when he was stopped dead in his tracks.

Someone else was with him. Someone Alfred had never seen before.

Immediately, he glared dangerously in the stranger's direction.

"Whoa there, sweetie," the guy purred, helping the still giggling Arthur to his feet. "Don't want to hurt yourself."

"My heroooo," Arthur sang, holding himself up on the stranger's shoulders. "Always there to help me up when I fall..."

And that was e-_fucking_-nough of that.

Alfred stood up, jumped over the back of the couch, and puffed himself up as big as he could make himself. His fists were balled at his sides as he walked as cooly as he could keep himself over to the font door, where the douchebag was being way too handsy as he helped Arthur out of his coat.

"Sup, bro?" he sneered, mentally congratulating himself when the guy flinched, realizing someone else was in the room.

He coughed into his hand before running the other through his hair. "Oh, hey man. Didn't see you there."

Alfred forced himself to smile, albeit sarcastically. "I noticed." He glanced over to where Arthur had draped himself over the kitchen table, muttering something about scones, and pursed his lips. "Anyway, thanks for bringing Artie back to the apartment, I'll take it from here."

The guy raised and unimpressed eyebrow. "Actually, your roommate _invited_ me over," he replied curtly, "for the _night._ Couldn't turn down a birthday boy's wish, you know."

Alfred immediately dropped all pretenses of being nice. "He's obviously drunk and doesn't realize what he did," he seethed. "So I suggest, if you know what's good for you, that you'll _beat it._"

The creep stood just a little taller. "I believe," he said, far too calmly for Alfred's taste, "that the gentleman _wants_ me here." He smirked. "He made that _very_ clear on the ride over."

"OUT. NOW."

Alfred pushed past his unwanted guest and threw the door open, shoving him out into the hall. The guy stumbled a little, but caught himself at the last minute. Alfred growled and stormed after him.

"What?" the guy laughed, "What's wrong? Don't want your boyfriend bringing home other guys? Maybe if you were worth a shit, he wouldn't need to go aft-"

Alfred's fist collided with his face, effectively cutting off his sentence. The other man moaned in pain, his hands flying to his bleeding nose as his eyes watered. Alfred grabbed him by his collar and brought him face to face with a snarl.

"I swear, if you ever so much as _look_ at Arthur again, I will beat you so fucking bad your mother wont be able to recognize you," he snapped.

He broke out of Alfred's grasp with a muttered curse. "Fine. He wouldn't have been much of a lay anyway." He stalked down the hallway, back toward the elevator. "Wouldn't shut up about a fucking 'Alfred'... stupid little..."

Only once Alfred was sure he was out of the building for good did he go back into his apartment, cursing at his sore and bloody knuckles. Arthur was sitting patiently at the table and smiled at him dopily when they made eye contact.

"Alfred!" he chirped. "I missed you!"

Alfred smiled softly. "I wasn't gone very long, dude."

"Any time away from you is too long," Arthur sighed. Alfred shook his head, grabbing a bag of frozen peas and resting it on his bruising hand.

"You are _really_ fucking drunk, Art," he said, joining him at the table. "Why don't you head to bed?"

Arthur's eyes widened almost comically before his eyelids lowered to half-mast. "Will you be _joining_ me, love?"

Alfred snorted. "Oh yeah, waaay drunk." He put the peas aside and stood up, clapping his hands once for good measure. "C'mon buddy, let's get you a glass of water and tuck you in."

"And you'll come as well?"

Alfred smiled, guiding Arthur to the bathroom. "Nah, dude. I dunno if that's-"

Arthur pouted. "You promised me at the bar."

"I didn't _go_ to the bar, Artie," Alfred sighed, helping Arthur get his tooth brush together. "Remember? Still only twenty."

Arthur furrowed his brows as if suddenly very confused. "Are you certain?" he asked. "I could almost swear..."

Alfred rolled his eyes. No doubt that shithead had probably promised Arthur something similar, and Arthur was so drunk, he associated it with him. He clenched his jaw as a sudden wave of jealousy washed over him. "Ya know what, I think I will." He flushed. "S-sleep with you that is. You know, just to keep you from-"

Arthur dropped his toothbrush in the sink and flung himself around the toilet, emptying his stomach's contents with a retching gag.

Alfred ran a hand through his hair. "-Doing that."

O

As soon as Arthur had been cleaned up, Alfred shoved the apartment puke bucket into his arms, and sent him to bed with the promise that he would join him as soon as he cleaned up the living room and washed up himself. He was extremely reluctant to go alone, but if past experience told Alfred anything, he would be sleeping like a baby in less than five minutes, anyway.

It was as he was throwing out his empty pint of ice cream that his phone started vibrating loudly in his back pocket. "Hello?" he asked, answering it.

"Oh my god, Alfred!" Elizabeta's panicked voice cried. "I'm so- Arthur, he...There was this total creeper and he was all over him all night, but I had to go to the bathroom so I- I'm so sorry, he totally got away from me!"

"Liz, I kn- Liz, _Liz! _I know, he's here." Alfred sighed in relief when she finally stopped babbling and continued, "The creep brought Arthur back to the apartment and wouldn't leave, so I kicked his ass."

"Like, for serious?" Feliks suddenly piped in. Alfred rolled his eyes; leave it to Elizabeta to have this whole thing on speaker phone for the entire team to hear.

"Yeah, I punched him in the face and he left." He paused to let the group listening in get out their squeals and gasps. "Anyway, Arthur's here. Sick, but safe."

Elizabeta sighed. "Oh good, I was so worried. Take care of him tonight, okay?"

Alfred smiled. "Will do. Night Liz... And everyone else."

"Omg, do you, like, think he knew we were listening?" Feliks asked as Alfred hung up with a chuckle. Turning off the light in the kitchen, Alfred grabbed the glass of water he had filled up for Arthur earlier, and dragged his tired feet to Arthur's room at the very end of the hallway. Sure enough, he was snoring quietly in his bed, his arms wrapped around the bucket like a teddy bear.

He set the glass down on Arthurs table and smiled wistfully at his amazing, little British roommate. Maybe he would wake up early and make him breakfast or something. He was going to have a rude awakening; it was the least he could do.

Knowing he could blame it on his unconscious, sleeping self (and the very high chance Arthur would still be too out of it to know what was going on anyway), Alfred moved the bucket out of the way and snaked his arms around Arthur protectively with a blush.

He closed his eyes, safe in the knowledge that no one would be hurting Arthur as long as he was there.

* * *

><p><strong>The morning after to come next time! :D<strong>

**Ah, wouldn't be a college fic without the 21st birthday chapters! My 21st birthday wasn't nearly as exciting as Arthur's though. it was during homecoming and I was up for court so I had to go to the dance and I didn't even win, so I didn't have much time to drink, and I was the first of my friends in my grade to turn 21 so it was just me and a few of the cross country girls at the bar. Laame. XD**

**ANYWAY. THREE MORE WEEKS AND I'M FREE FROM WORK. And if none of my track kids make it to state, it will be two! (They totally will make it to state though, cause I'm just that awesome of a coach. XD) Anyway, ENJOY and until next time, I love you guys! :D**

**-Car**


	15. Arthur Turns 21 Part 2

**Alfred- Sophomore**

**Arthur- Junior**

* * *

><p>Arthur woke up with a terrible headache and even worse cotton mouth. He groaned, thanking the powers that be that there was a glass of lukewarm water on his side table, and gulped it down greedily.<p>

As he lay in bed, he began to run through what he remembered of the previous night. Obviously, he had drank a little too much, that wasn't too hard to figure out, but what he couldn't quite get a grasp on was why Alfred kept coming up so frequently.

He had stayed home, hadn't he? Of course he did, so why did he feel like he had been at the bar that night?

Oh well, too much thinking, all that mattered was that he ended up in his own bed, fully clothed... with a full bladder. Groaning, he swung his feet out of bed and dragged them down the hall to the bathroom. Once that was taken care of, he splashed a little water on his face, took a few painkillers, and followed his nose out to the kitchen, where the sweet smell of fried grease was wafting pleasantly down the hall.

Arthur smiled softly when Alfred was reveled to be standing in front of the stove, the counter tops around him covered in broken eggs shells, dry pancake mix, and some small puddles of bacon juice. His cheeks pinked slightly.

"Alfred?" he asked, clearing his throat when he realized how raspy his voice had sounded.

Alfred turned around and grinned. "Mornin', sunshine!" he exclaimed. Arthur groaned.

"Shut the hell up."

Alfred laughed and flipped over a sizzling piece of bacon on the skillet. "How'd you sleep?"

"Well, I think," Arthur said with a sigh, pulling up a chair and sitting across the counter. He massaged his temples. "How drunk _was_ I last night?"

Alfred seemed to tense. He coughed as he flipped over another strip of bacon. "W-well, you were pretty damn drunk, dude."

Arthur moaned. "Oh bloody hell. I didn't do anything that will haunt me on Facebook for the next week, did I?"

"Nah, nothing like that," Alfred chuckled, loading some eggs, a few strips of bacon, and a couple of pancakes on a plate and setting it in front of Arthur. "You, uh, you did kinda...bring a guy back though."

Arthur immediately froze.

He wasn't sure if it was shame, embarrassment, or a terrible mixture of the two that suddenly made his blood run cold, but Arthur was at a total loss for words. Had he honestly been that careless? Did Alfred really see him do something so stupid? So idiotic?

So Arthur-from-freshman-year like?

Obviously sensing Arthur's unease, Alfred turned back to the stove. "Don't worry, I, uh, I kicked him out. Nothing...nothing happened."

Arthur's throat was painfully dry. He almost felt like crying. "You kicked him out."

"Yeah." Alfred blinked and looked over the counter, where Arthur had his face buried in his hands. "Dude, you okay?"

"Fine," he seethed, biting his lip when he felt his eyes threatening to overflow. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so embarrassed...

"Dude, Artie, if-"

"I said I was_ fine_, Alfred!" he snapped.

Alfred jumped back in surprise. "A-Art?"

Arthur grit his teeth, forcibly pushing back his chair and standing up straight, his hands balled at his sides. "_Please_, Alfred. You've already done more than enough."

He regretted it almost immediately, as Alfred's stance immediately took a defensive. "What the hell, Arthur?" he exclaimed. "What's with you all of a sudden?"

What_ was_ wrong with him? he thought to himself desperately. He certainly wasn't upset with Alfred for kicking the random stranger out of his bed the night before; he appreciated it more than Alfred could ever imagine. So why was he being so curt? Why was he being so mean?

"I didn't _ask_ you to come sweeping in and save me," he growled, despite himself.

"You didn't have to ask!" Alfred exclaimed. "I wasn't going to let some scumbag take advantage of you like that!"

"I don't need a child looking after me, Alfred!" _Shut up,_ he willed himself. _Shut up, shut up, shut up..._

All of the anger immediately left Alfred's face as Arthur's words came together in his head. His eyes widened at his roommate, and subconsciously, he took a small step away from him. "What?" he asked, and the sadness to it broke Arthur's heart.

"Alfred, I-"

And then, like a sudden clap of thunder, the anger was back. "_Fine!_" he snapped. "Fine! If you wanna go out, a-and get drunk and sleep with, with random guys at the bar, by all means, _don't let me stop you!_"

When the apartment door was slammed shut behind Alfred, Arthur wasn't at all surprised to find he barely registered the sound.

O

"Please come back."

"No."

Matthew sighed dramatically. "_Please,_ Alfred?"

"No!" Alfred exclaimed, crossing his arms in a huff. "Look, Arthur obviously doesn't want a stupid kid like me hanging around all the time, so why go where I'm not welcome?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Al, we are literally the _exact_ same age, and _I'm_ still welcome. Age has nothing to do with this, and you know it."

"Age has everything to do with it, Matt!" Alfred sighed. "Artie...he...he was for serious really pissed at me for kicking that guy out, and according to _him_, I'm too young and stupid to get why."

Inwardly, Matthew was hitting his head against a hypothetical wall. Why were his brother and Arthur the most thick-headed, stubborn idiots in the entire world? "Have you ever thought that, just maybe, it wasn't _you_ he was angry at?"

Alfred blinked owlishly. "Who else would he have been mad at?"

"_Himself,_ maybe?"

Another blink. "I...don't...follow..."

Oh, he had to be freaking kidding.

Matthew sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay. Arthur gets drunk and brings home some random guy. You, his best friend and love of his life- and shut your mouth, I don't want to hear your denials right now- catch him and essentially save him from making a huge mistake. Now, assuming I know a lot more than you think I do, which _I do,_ and he is totally in love with you-"

"Except he's not."

"Shush! Assuming he _is_ totally in love with you, he would be really embarrassed, eh?"

Alfred bit his lip and shrugged.

"Would _you_ be embarrassed if Arthur caught you drunkenly bringing home a one-night-stand?"

"Well, yeah, I guess..."

"There you go!" Matthew said excitedly. "He was embarrassed, and mad at himself, and that's why he snapped at you!" He beamed, "So you'll come back to the apartment, right?"

Alfred honestly looked like he was considering it for a second, before, much to Matthew's disappointment, he shook his head. "No. Even if he wasn't mad at me, which I don't entirely believe yet, by the way, he was still a little ass about it. I'm not going back until he apologizes."

Matthew deflated, sharing an exasperated sigh with Feliks and Toris, who were kind enough to share their dorm with Alfred while he and Arthur were fighting, and had been watching the exchange like some sort of twisted sporting event. Feliks flopped face first on his bed with a moan while Toris chuckled and pat his shoulder sympathetically.

"I'll go talk to Arthur," Matthew said with a sigh. He waved goodbye to the trio and hiked his backpack onto his shoulder for the trek across campus.

* * *

><p><strong>A bit shorter than usual, but I figured I would just include the whole make-up part together later and get this part out now! XD<strong>

**Life has been mighty hectic with the school year ending and me quitting my current job to find a new job somewhere that doesn't suck, so I have to move and go to interviews and all that good stuff, but I'm still working on this I promise! I apologize if the drama is stupid or doesn't make sense, but I _do not_ do this kinda stuff much, so cut me some slack, okay? XD**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed and happy June to all! :DD  
>-Car<strong>


	16. Arthur Turns 21 Part 3

"We cannot let this go on, it is pathetic."

"If you think you can snap him out of it, be my guest, but he's been at it for two days now with no sign of stopping."

"Maybe if Alfred came by...?"

"Not a chance, I just talked to him and he's not going anywhere until Arthur apologizes."

"Arthur is not going to apologize. He will not even leave the couch."

"I CAN BLOODY HEAR YOU, YOU PRATS."

Matthew and Kiku blushed, shrinking away from the lump of blankets curled up on the loveseat with a cringe. Matthew ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the corner of the coffee table facing Arthur, who glared at him bitterly.

"Arthur," Matthew said with a sigh. "Come on, you can't just lay here all day. Why don't you get cleaned up, and we'll go over to Toris and Feliks' dorm so we can talk to Alfred and get everything figured out?"

"No!" Arthur cried, burying himself deeper into his cocoon of blankets. "I don't want Alfred to see me like this!"

"But," Matthew offered, not nearly as confidently as he hoped, "maybe once he sees how sorry you are, he'll forgive you."

Arthur scoffed, burring himself deeper into the cushions. "No he wont. And I don't want him to. I was a right prat, he shouldn't forgive me, I would be upset at him if he did."

"This is true," Kiku agreed with a nod before being elbowed in the side by Matthew as Arthur moaned in agony once again.

Matthew sighed, cursing, for the umpteenth time in his life, that he had the unfortunate _privilege_ to be related to Alfred.

O

Alfred and Arthur arrived at practice on Monday separately, but looking equally worse of wear. Thankfully, the news of the fight had made it's way around campus long before that afternoon, so no one dared to inquire as to why they both looked so terrible.

Well, almost no one.

"You look like shit."

Alfred grumbled, lifting the dumbbell to his chest with even more vigor. "Thanks, Liz."

She shrugged. "Just saying." She plopped down on an exercise ball, pursing her lips and cocking her head to the side up at Alfred. "I heard about the fight."

"You and every other person on campus," he spat. Elizabeta rolled her eyes.

"Oh please."

Alfred raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Rome asked me if I wanted to watch _The Notebook _with him after practice to make me feel better."

"Oh," Elizabeta said, blinking in surprise. "That's...pretty bad."

"No shit."

They sat in awkward silence. Alfred continued to lift his dumbbells as Elizabeta worked through the situation in her head, until Toris slunk into the weight room, nervously. Finally spying Alfred and Elizabeta, he took off across the room, wringing his hands nervously.

"Alfred! I'm so glad I found you!" he said in relief. "It's Arthur!"

Alfred looked frightened for a moment, before he remembered that he was angry at Arthur, and immediately switched to indifference. "Why should I care?" he scoffed.

Toris frowned. "He's hurt."

O

Arthur sat, bleeding and agitated, as Ludwig fussed over the worst of his injuries. He knew that his right knee, elbow, and palm got the brunt of the fall, but he could feel some serious road rash on his chin and a slight twinge in his left ankle.

"This may sting a bit, Arthur," Ludwig warned, a gaggle of other Athletic Training students in the same lab peaking just over his broad shoulders to get a look at what was going on. Arthur nodded and braced himself for the worst.

"Ooooooow, bloody_ fuck,_" he cursed as Ludwig sprayed disinfectant, or whatever the fuck was in that bottle, onto the gash on his knee.

Ludwig smiled sadly in apology. "Sorry. It's bad enough that you've done this to yourself, but Coach would kill me if I let your leg get infected as well."

"Lovely," Arthur grumbled with a pout.

Gilbert, who was tinkering around with a model skeleton in the corner, laughed boisterously. "Spray him again, _bruder_! He deserves it for making such a rookie mistake!"

Arthur blushed, cringing as Ludwig sprayed at his elbow. "There is nothing rookie about tripping, Gilbert. Especially with the sidewalks in this town. Honestly, you would think enough people have fallen that they would have fixed them by now." He knew better than to mention that the reason he fell was because he was thinking about Alfred.

"_Nein_, it was lame, and you should feel lame."

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Ludwig, who had (thankfully) finished with the disinfectant and was examining his ankle. "How bad is it?"

The sophomore poked at the inflamed joint and shook his head. "It's definitely sprained, but if you keep it elevated for a few days and do some exercises, you should still be able to run as long as it's taped."

"Bloody hell," Arthur groaned, falling backward on the table. "At least it can't get much worse."

"Arthur!"

Arthur popped back up, his eyes widening as Alfred and Elizabeta pushed their way though the door, Toris following a few seconds behind them. "_Alfred_?"

"Arthur," Alfred breathed, keeping a hand steady on the doorframe, though the widening of his eyes betrayed he was obviously taking in the blood splattered and smeared over Arthur's right side. "I heard you were hurt so I-" he froze. The look on Arthur's face showing he was shocked, and perhaps not entirely happy about seeing his roommate. He quickly hardened his expression. "I mean, Toris made me come down here to check on you."

Elizabeta, Toris, Ludwig, and Gilbert simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"W-well if that's the case, you should just—OW!"

Arthur pulled his hand away from Ludwig, betrayal, shock, and pain painted all over his face. He clutched his hand to his chest protectively, afraid that whatever Ludwig had just done to it would happen again. "What the fuck was _that_?" he cried.

Ludwig held up his hands in forgiveness "_Es tut mir leid_," he apologized, "but I think you have a rock imbedded in your hand."

"What?" he gasped, looking down at the large, skinned portion of his palm.

"What?" Alfred parroted, finally leaving his spot by the door and rushing over to Arthur's side.

Ludwig nodded, grabbing a pair of tweezers, and taking Arthur's hand in his to keep it steady. "Right here," he said, poking at a small, barely visible white spot among the bloody tissue. The tweezers made a small _click_ on the pebble when they made contact, and Arthur winced. "Would someone go grab Lili for me? I need a nursing student in here to help me."

"I got it," Elizabeta said with a nod, taking off out the door. Ludwig nodded and turned his attention back to Arthur, who was looking more than a little worried.

"You have a few options," he explained. "We can wait for your body to reject the pebble itself, but there is no telling how long it will take, and chances are the rest of your injury will have healed, which could make it very difficult to get it out without some serious scarring, as well as the chance of infection. Or, we could try to dig it out now, which will be very painful, as the injury is still fresh, but it will help the healing process in the long run."

Arthur bit his lip, staring at his hand so intently, he didn't even realize Elizabeta had returned with Lili. "I suppose... we might as well get it over with," he gulped.

As Ludwig turned to Lili to explain the situation and to get his supplies together, Arthur allowed himself a deep, calming breath. Automatically his eyes found Alfred's, right by his side and just as worried as his own. He smiled pathetically. "I thought you were upset at me."

"I am," Alfred whispered. "But I think this is a little bit more important right now."

"Are you ready, Arthur?" Lili asked, smiling sweetly and holding an intimidating pair of tweezers. "This is going to be painful, so you might want to find a pillow or something to hold on to," she explained.

"Let me find one for you," Toris volunteered, but was immediately stopped by Gilbert.

"Nah, Golden Boy will handle it," he sneered.

Elizabeta beamed, clapping her hands excitedly. "Ooooh,_ igen_! Alfred can hold his hand!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes, but Lili giggled as Arthur and Alfred flushed in embarrassment. "That would be perfect! Why don't you come stand under the light so we can see what we are doing?"

Once in position, Alfred grabbed Arthur's left hand and gave it a small squeeze of encouragement while Ludwig held the injured hand steady and Lili readied her tweezers. Arthur took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad? It was just a small little pebble after all. He was Arthur Kirkland, he could handle this. "I'm ready."

"Okay," Lili mumbled, sticking out her tongue in concentration. "Here I go."

"OWW! BLOODY FUCKING BUGGERING CHRIST!"

Lili pulled her had away immediately. Beside her, Alfred winced and flexed his fingers where Arthur had squeezed them with the force of a freaking spring clamp.

"Arthur, we told you this was going to hurt," Ludwig said with a sigh.

"I didn't think it would be _that _bad!"

"Arthur, hey," Alfred said soothingly, taking his hand in his again. Arthur snapped his head up to look him in the eye. "You got this, dude. You are seriously one of the toughest guys I know. Anyone who can run like you can knows how to fight through pain, you can handle it."

Arthur blushed, nodding to himself and clearing his throat in determination. "Y-yes, yes, quite. Stiff upper lip, I've got this."

Alfred grinned. "Right on, bro!" He nodded to Lili over Arthur's shoulder. "Ready? She's going in."

Arthur squeaked, but quickly shook his head to clear his negative thoughts. "Right, yes, here we gooOOOH my GOD!" He winced, biting his lip to quell the pain.

"Don't bit your lip," Ludwig scolded, struggling to keep Arthur's hand steady. "Hold on to Alfred's hand, you're just going to hurt yourself more."

"Don't hold back, Artie, I can take the pain." Alfred smiled warmly.

Arthur nodded though his clenched teeth and gripped Alfred's hand with all of his might. He had never felt such pain in his entire life, and knew that if the rock had been stuck anywhere else but his hands, it wouldn't be nearly as bad, but hands were _meant_ to be sensitive; _meant_ to be the centers of touch and feeling, and right now, Arthur was feeling _everything_.

The tweezers kept slipping off the pebble, but Lili kept her cool and stayed persistent. Over Ludwig's frantic suggestions and Alfred's sweet encouragements, Arthur could still hear and feel the metal scraping against rock, but he tried his hardest to ignore it.

"You're doing awesome, Artie," Alfred said, rubbing his thumb over Arthur's hand. "Keep it up, they've almost got it."

"I am going to try getting under it and popping it out," Lili explained. "I can't get a good grip on it this way."

Arthur groaned, "Yes, yes, fine, do what you must, just do it quickly."

It took about two more excruciating minutes before Arthur was finally overwhelmed with a feeling of total relief. Gilbert and Elizabeta cheered, while the others let of sighs of relief, and Lili took the rock and put it in a small baggy for Arthur to see. It was tiny; just a small piece of gravel from the sidewalk, but to Arthur, it might as well have been a boulder for all the pain it had caused him.

"You have to keep it," Alfred said excitedly, examining the pebble.

Arthur scrunched up his nose. "Why the hell would I keep that blasted thing?" he asked, incredulously. Alfred shrugged.

"I dunno, like a souvenir or something. If you don't keep it, I will."

Arthur gave it to him more than willingly.

O

"How are your pillows? Is your ankle okay?"

"Just fine, Alfred, thank you."

"You sure? How about some more pizza?"

"I'm _fine_, Alfred, sit down, would you? You're making me nervous."

Alfred and Matthew had helped Arthur back up to the apartment as soon as he was bandaged up, and Alfred had been fussing over him ever since. He had propped his sore ankle up on a small tower of pillows, ordered them pizza, and popped in _Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince_ (Arthur's favorite) to keep them entertained.

He knew Alfred was just trying to avoid the elephant in the room, and at first Arthur was thankful for that, but he was starting to get anxious. It was about time they cleared the air.

"You should be mad at me," he said finally.

Alfred froze, his slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. "Aw, Artie, c'mon you're hurt and—"

"It doesn't matter, Alfred," Arthur sighed. "I was a right prat to you. You should hate me."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "You want me to hate you?"

Arthur blushed. "N-no, of course I don't want you to hate me! You just...should," he finished lamely.

Alfred finally put down his pizza and leaned back in his chair with a sigh, hands behind his head. "Okay, I can't say I'm like, totally, one hundred percent happy with you right now, but...I dunno. People make mistakes."

"I still shouldn't have said those things to you. I shouldn't have even been _mad _at you," Arthur admitted. "To be honest...I was embarrassed." He glanced shyly at the younger man out of the corner of his eye. "To be honest, I didn't have a very... positive freshman year. I did a lot of things I'm not very proud of, made a lot of mistakes, Rome almost kicked me off the team because of them. And you... Let's be honest, you are practically the poster boy for _doing the right thing_ at WU, and I was just...embarrassed, I suppose, to have relapsed in front of you."

Thankfully, Alfred didn't look overly shocked by this nerve-wracking revelation. In fact, much to Arthur's confusion, he didn't seem phased by this new information at all. Obviously, this confusion showed on his face, as Alfred chuckled and smiled at his roommate warmly.

"Dude, I knew all about your old reputation like, a week into knowing you."

Arthur's mouth fell open. "_What?_"

Alfred smirked. "Just because _you_ delete all your Facebook pics, doesn't mean _everyone else_ does. By the way, you look pretty good in leather pants." Alfred winked. "Might wanna think about bringing that back."

"Oh hell," Arthur moaned, burying his face in his hands. "Why didn't you mention this to me before?" Alfred laughed.

"I figured it wasn't a big deal, I guess!" he shrugged. "We've all gone through our little rebellious stage. For instance, I was _totally_ a little douchebag in elementary school."

Arthur snorted. "Oh?"

"Oh, hell yeah! Dude, I was always in detention when I was a kid. I would cut my own hair, pick out and _ruin_ my own clothes, I threw a shit-fit and forced Mattie to change his birthday, because I wanted ours for my own—"

"I always wondered about that."

"I would even throw all the food I didn't want to eat into the pool."

Arthur gaped. "That's horrid!"

"I know!" Alfred agreed. "I would march out to the deck after dinner with my plate, and throw in my peas, or Brussel sprouts, or meatloaf, or tea—"

"_TEA?_"

The American made a sour face. "I would rather _keep _my sore throat than drink that crap, thank-you-very-much. But yeah, we all have our rebel stage, mine just happened to be ten years before yours. Before I could cause too much trouble." He smiled. "You wouldn't stop being friends with me just because I was a little shithead once upon a time, right?"

Arthur scoffed. "I don't know, I _did_ just find out you ruined perfectly good tea." Alfred laughed boisterously.

"Well, shit! Knew I should have left that part out!"

When their laughter died down, they sat in comfortable silence, nibbling at their pizza and absentmindedly watching the movie. After a few minutes Arthur cleared his throat.

"I do still wish to apologize to you properly," he said quietly, training his eyes everywhere but Alfred's face. "So... I apologize… for being such a prat."

"Apology accepted," Alfred said with a smile. "But if you get mad at me for helping you again, don't expect me to try and help you anymore. You're on your own."

Arthur grinned, finally meeting his eyes and smiling just as genuinely. "It's a deal."

Hours later, when Matthew returned from Katyusha's apartment, he was pleased, and not altogether unsurprised, to see Alfred and Arthur, curled up together on the loveseat, the menu for their movie playing on a loop on the TV across from them.

With a smile, he turned off the lights around them, and retired to his bedroom for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p><strong>SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! My summer has been so hectic, I quit my job, moved in with my boyfriend's parents, got a NEW job, moved into our own apartment, have had to unpack while working my full-time summer job, and preparing my classroom, which by the way, is totally empty except for a globe, so YES It has been very crazy for me. XD BUT I managed to crank this baby out, and now that Arthur's birthday is done, I can focus on FUN, HAPPY chapters again! XD<strong>

**Poor Arthur. I'm sure digging a rock out of your hand doesn't SOUND very painful, but I have BEEN THERE, man. and it HURTS. I have pictures, and I will probably put them up on my tumblr when I get home from work this afternoon, so check for those.**

**By the way, you should probably follow me on tumblr. I post one-shots and drabbles and stuff there sometimes that I never plan to post here, and if for some reason you like me, I don't want you to miss out! The link is on my profile, but my name is seecarrun, so get on that.**

**Anyway, long author's note is long. Have a good day, everyone! And keep an eye out for the last chapter of _Love Match_ as well! :D**

**-Car**


	17. Midnight Tea

**Alfred- Freshman**

**Arthur- Sophomore**

* * *

><p>While Arthur was normally very happy about his plethora of morning classes, he was beginning to seriously regret them now.<p>

Coach Rome had this brilliant idea to have the distance runners practice in the mornings, to save room on the track in the afternoons, and give them a little relief from the quickly approaching summer heat. Because of this, Arthur was awake and in the athletic center at five-forty-five every morning, back in his room by seven-thirty (if he was lucky), with just enough time to shower and grab a scone to eat on his way to his eight o'clock class.

The fact that he had only made it to bed at three-thirty in the morning the night before, working on a paper for his class at ten, certainly didn't help, and he found himself, dazed and glassy-eyed in Intro to Philosophy, gazing out the window and not even pretending to listen to the professor.

As his eyelids became heavy, he willed himself to try to pay attention, or at the very least, think of something that was actually interesting to keep him awake.

Which his mind kindly provided for him in the form of his younger, and sinfully attractive, roommate.

Suddenly, in Arthur's mind's eye, it was the night before. This time, Alfred wasn't laying on his bed playing his stupid little handheld video game thing, or curled up and snoring on his top bunk, blissfully unaware of the sleep Arthur wasn't getting.

No, this time, Alfred had returned from his late night shift at the residence hall sign in desk, quietly pushing open the door, as to not disturb his surely sleeping roommate, only to freeze in surprise at seeing him still hunched over his laptop at midnight.

"Dude, what the hell are you still doing up?" he would ask, depositing his backpack on the floor and confronting Arthur at his desk. "You're usually in bed by like, nine."

"Have to finish paper," he would groan, rubbing at his eyes. "Five to seven pages due tomorrow. Must finish."

Alfred would then whistle under his breath, smirking in amusement and shaking his head in fond disbelief. "_Woo,_ someone is going a_ little_ batty tonight huh? And you always tell _me_ not to procrastinate." He would lean over then, wrapping his arms around Arthur's shoulders and whispering in his ear in that disgustingly sexy America accent of his, "How 'bount some tea, sweetheart?"

Arthur would moan, leaning greedily into Alfred's toned chest and closing his tired eyes in bliss. "That would be _heavenly_. Thank you, love."

"No prob, babe. It'll be ready in a jif!"

Arthur would pretend to return to his paper, but with his boyfriend back in the room, existing and just being so damn adorable, he would find getting any work done to be near impossible. So instead, he would scan through his already written work, pretending to fix typos, while he watched Alfred make his tea; a task he had spent three consecutive days teaching him to do correctly.

Alfred would smile at him over his shoulder, teasingly. "For someone so stressed about this paper, you sure aren't working very hard on it."

Arthur would flush. "Shut it, tosser. I can't get any work done with you disrupting my concentration."

"Disrupting your concentration, eh?" Alfred would ask with a laugh. "You mean I'm _distracting_ you?" he would purr, striking a stupid pose that was probably supposed to be sexy, but really looked just plain ridiculous.

"By being a total git, yes."

Alfred would laugh heartily, probably waking up fifty percent of the floor in the process, and deposit his tea on his desk. He would kiss him sweetly on the forehead and stand behind him once again, rubbing his shoulders. "Need anything else?"

Arthur would close his eyes in bliss at the impromptu massage, sighing and melting into Alfred's touch. "Never stop."

"Only if you can do your paper at the same time."

"No."

He would laugh again, but wouldn't stop his ministrations. "You can do it, Artie," he would encourage. "Don't want you up all night after all!" And he would lean in closer, his head resting on his shoulders. "You know I don't like going to bed without you."

And Arthur would blush. As much as he absolutely adored it, he was still new to being doted on by Alfred in such a way, and it never failed to make his heart skip a beat. He would turn around, effectively ending his massage, but it was worth it to see the freshman's beautiful blue eyes and loving smile. "You'll be the death of me, Jones."

"I'm willing to take full responsibility."

Arthur would smile, forgetting his paper for now, but inwardly promising to return back to it later (and knowing full well he was completely full of it). He would take Alfred's hand, following him to the beds they had pushed together weeks ago, not even bothering to hide the pathetic, lovesick look he knew was plastered all over his face.

Arthur in real-time sighed, the same pathetic, lovesick look on his face, only it was directed out the window, rather that directed at Alfred. He sighed again, this time in agony, turning his attention back to the front of the class as the door creaked open.

"Excuse me," the small, mousy, fidgety woman, Arthur just barely recognized as a World Religion professor, stuttered, popping her head into the classroom. "We need everyone to evacuate the building, there has been an accident in one of the science labs upstairs."

Most of the class cheered, grabbing their books to the join the stampede of students in the hallway, and Arthur followed close behind, allowing himself to be guided outside by the masses until they all reached the quad.

A Hazmat truck pulled up along the side of the street ,and whispers and rumors filled the air.

"I heard someone dropped a test tube with a deadly virus contained inside."

"Yao was up there, he said that there was some big chemical fire."

"I heard, like, the entire roof is totally on fire."

"Feliks, there's no smoke, how could it be on fire?"

"Arthur!"

Arthur spun around to see Alfred pushing his way through the crowd of students, waving excitedly. He was instantly reminded of his little daydream in class, but willed his blush down to the best of his ability. "Hello Alfred." He thanked the heavens above his voice came out normal. "What class you were you just in?"

"Oh um..." Alfred blushed. "Chem lab?"

Arthur stared, the dots connecting and the big picture coming together. "Alfred...You didn't!"

"Shhhhh!" he exclaimed, clamping his hand over Arthur's mouth. "It was a total accident," he whispered harshly.

"What on earth happened?" Arthur demanded. Alfred looked around him and harshly pulled him away from majority of the people by the arm.

"Okay, so we were studying sulfuric acid based reactions, when I might have on total accident, _accidentally_ elbowed a test-tube off the table, and it may have _accidentally_ started eating away at the floor..._Accidentally_!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "It wasn't an accident, was it, Alfred?"

Alfred's mouth hung open before he started laughing like a lunatic. "_What?_" he squeaked. "Of course it- Artie, you're crazy! Why would I- I mean, that's totally..." His laughing slowly died down to a nervous chuckle, which then morphed into an awkward cough. "Okay yeah, but don't you dare say anything! They would totally make me pay for it!"

"What were you thinking, you idiot?" he exclaimed, not able to keep the amusement from seeping passed his anger. Alfred smirked despite the circumstances, obviously at least a little proud himself.

"Well, I knew you were up super late last night working on that paper, so I thought, hey," he shrugged, "Arthur wont have to turn in that paper if he didn't have class."

Alfred's face had turned a delightful shade of pink, obviously because he realized how bloody stupid he sounded, but Arthur thought it was the single-handed most adorable thing he had ever seen, and his heart leapt accordingly.

"You put hundreds of students in life-threatening danger, just so I wouldn't have to turn in my already-finished paper?" he asked in disbelief.

Alfred blushed even deeper. "Well when you put it like _that,_ I guess-"

Arthur silenced him with a hug, shaking his head, but smiling like a damned pre-pubesent girl. "You are the biggest idiot I have ever met," he sighed. "But thank you."

Well, it wasn't tea and a massage at midnight, but Arthur certainly wasn't going to complain.

It would have taken far longer than three days to teach Alfred how to make tea, anyway, and now he could at least have a nap.

* * *

><p><strong>Two updates in one weekend! Damn Car, you are on a roll!<strong>

**Anyway, the whole evacuating the building thing totally happened to me once in college. I went to a smaller school that had a good portion of classes all in one building, like the cadaver lab was in the basement, then there were like 2 floors for religion, social studies, philosophy, english etc., then the top floor was science labs.**

**Anyway, someone totally spilled some chemical that started eating at the floor, so we all had to be evacuated and classes in that building were canceled for the rest of the day. It was EPIC. Plus, shortly after that incident, they agreed to build a new building just for science. What a coincidence, hm? ;)**

**Anyway! Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to review! :)  
>-Car<strong>


	18. Boys of Fall

**Arthur- Senior**

**Alfred- Junior**

**Fall**

* * *

><p>It all started with an innocent conversation in the locker room after practice.<p>

"So!" Travis sang, throwing an arm around Alan's shoulders. The linesman instantly pushed him away, grumbling to himself about the quarterback's smell. Travis was undeterred however, and kept at it. "You gonna be making a move tonight? Offering the lovely Miss Lien your practice jersey for the game tomorrow?"

Alan's face immediately took on a pink hue, and with a huff, he threw his sweaty socks in Travis's face. "Shut the fuck up, d-bag," he snapped.

Travis squeaked, dodging the socks with a laugh. When he popped back up, he ruffled up his disgruntled teammate's hair. "Dude, you have been stuck on her since freshman year! It's pathetic!"

Alfred shook his head, toweling off his hair from his recent shower. "Don't give your jersey to Lien, bro. You'll catch the bitchy."

The guys all rolled their eyes. "I will never understand why you two hate each other so much," Travis sighed.

"She's horrible!" he exclaimed. "She hit me with a paddle!"

"Y' deserved it," Berwald piped in from somewhere in the room.

Alfred glared in the general direction of the voice, and resumed getting dressed. "I'm just saying," he slipped his shirt on over his head, "there are plenty of other, _nicer,_ fish in the sea." He paused. "Ones who_ don't_ go around whacking people with paddles."

"Y' were bein' a dick."

"SHUT UP, BERWALD."

"Well, what about you?" Travis asked, turning his attention to Alfred. "Which little fishy are _you_ going to be giving your practice jersey to?_ Like-I-have-to-ask_," he stage-mumbled under his breath with a grin.

Alfred blushed. "That, would be none of your business."

"Right," Travis deadpanned, "none of my business. HEY GUYS!" he exclaimed to the whole locker room. "WHO IS ALFRED GOING TO TRY TO GIVE HIS JERSEY TO?"

"KIRKLAND." came the resounding reply.

"THANKS!" Alfred glared dangerously while Travis smirked triumphantly. "It's no secret, broseph."

"You're a dick."

"And _you_ are a pussy, because we both know that you are, _once again_, going to chicken out asking Arthur. It's the _World U/Southern_ game! At _home_! There is no better opportunity!"

Alfred sighed, fastening the belt on his jeans. "It's more complicated than just that, dude."

For as long as anyone could remember, World University and Southern Tech had been rivals. No one actually knew _why _they were rivals anymore, but that game was always the most brutal, the most nerve-wracking, the most satisfying when they won, and the most heartbreaking when they lost.

Somewhere in history, the tradition of giving a sweetheart your practice jersey to wear during the game as support started, and had been carried on ever since. Alfred knew that there was no better opportunity to make some sort of step forward in his relationship with Arthur, but based on his track record the last two years, it was simply not meant to be.

Freshman year, he had attempted the subtlety route, and casually brought up the fact that he had no one to give his jersey to over lunch. Of course, some girl from his English class had overheard, and instantly offered herself for the job before Arthur could even open his mouth, and Alfred was too nice to turn her down.

The year before, sophomore year, he had tried leaving the jersey on Arthur's bed with a note that said "Wear Me! :)" Not only did Arthur completely miss the note and not wear the jersey, he was pissed off at Alfred for two solid days for leaving his "dirty, old, smelly clothes all over his room again."

It was freaking ridiculous.

"Okay, even if I _did_ somehow manage to ask him without things going wrong, he wouldn't wear it! He'd be like," and here he put on his best (in other words, absolutely horrible) English accent, "'I'm not wearing that bloody thing. I'm not a bloody woman, you bloody git!'"

Travis rolled his eyes. "Guys wear the jerseys all the time. I mean, look at Tino! He's been wearing Berwald's for years! Right, Waldo?"

"S' right."

"There ya go!"

Alfred glared into the abyss of the locker room, wherever Berwald was hiding, and groaned in irritation. "Arthur's different though. Berwald and Tino are actually _dating._"

"Don't forget Roderich," Alan added, coming out of the showers, where he had apparently been listening to the whole conversation.

Alfred puffed up his cheeks. "Okay, stop right there. He wears _Liz's_, that's totally not even close to the same situation. Plus, they're dating too!"

"You and Arthur could _also_ be dating, if you would just man up, and ask the damn boy to wear your jersey," Travis pointed out. Alfred pouted.

"I'm leaving now," he said, grabbing his gym bag and heading to the door.

"Do the right thing!" Travis called after him, but Alfred was already out the door, flipping the bird behind him.

O

Arthur didn't even go to American football games before Alfred.

He had no particular love of the game; hell, he had no idea what was even going on during one. And not to mention he was on the _proper _football team, which meant the age-old animosity of both sports going on at the same time, and one getting far more support, money, and attention than the other.

But somehow, his roommate had managed to change his attitude.

The fact that he was beautiful to watch, and those tight trousers making his arse look sinfully good aside, the boy truly loved the sport, and the feeling he got when Alfred's eyes would light up when he found him in the bleachers was addicting, and kept him coming back for more.

In other words, he was hopelessly, pathetically enamored with that boy, and it was seriously beginning to affect his judgement.

And if the growing pile of clothing he was setting aside to wear during the colder than hell game the next day was anything to go by, _his health _was being affectedas well.

"Knock, knock!" Arthur jumped as Alfred's face popped through the door, sporting a big, stupid grin. "Getting ready for the game tomorrow?" he asked, eyeing the mound of clothes on the bed in amusement.

Arthur crossed his arms. "Yes, and you better be bloody happy about it. It's supposed to be minus two out there!"

Alfred crinkled his nose in distaste. "Dude, don't exaggerate, it's only gonna be like, twenty-nine."

They had been down this road far too many times before, so Arthur decided to forgo the Fahrenheit vs Celsius argument for today, and continue picking out his warmest outfit instead. He held up two pairs of pants to test for thickness. "Be that as it may, it's still freezing." He made his decision with a nod. "And furthermore, I should win an award for agreeing to stand out in the wind to watch a game in which I have _no clue_ what the dynamics are, just to watch you run around for thirty seconds and then stop."

A smug glance at Alfred over his shoulder revealed that the boy was not, in fact, ready to argue that American football was much more than just running and stopping, as he expected, but that he actually looked...nervous?

"Ha ha, yeah," Alfred said weakly, clearing his throat. One hand fiddled with the hem of his shirt, as the other stayed hidden behind his back. Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the hidden hand as Alfred cleared his throat again and continued speaking. "So, uh, hey, Artie?" he asked.

"Yes...?" he replied hesitantly.

Alfred hesitated for a few long moments, biting his lip and maneuvering his eyes to focus on every single thing in Arthur's room but Arthur himself. Finally, he took a deep breath and smiled. "I-if you're so worried about being cold," he said almost shyly, pulling whatever he was hiding behind his back out into the open, "what if I gave you one more layer to keep you warm?"

Arthur froze. In Alfred's outstretched hand was his practice jersey, all blue and green, with the slightly tattered "50" that could only be in that state from hours of roughhousing out on the field.

The shock and surprise must have shown on Arthur's face, as Alfred immediately jumped to the defensive. "I-I mean, only if you wanna! I know it's usually a-" he coughed, "_couple_ thing, but like, you're my best friend and stuff, so I figured, you know..." He shrugged, now wringing the jersey in both of his hands. "Uh, I-I washed it."

Arthur was ninety percent sure he was going to melt.

Okay, Alfred has used that blasted f-word, but he was _asking him to wear his jersey_, for the _biggest game of the year!_ _Him_! Even if it was just as friends, there was no way in hell Arthur was letting this opportunity get away from him.

"I would be- I mean... Of _course _I will, Alfred," he said, as calmly as he could. He tried not to look the American directly in the eye, knowing he had to have been blushing clear up to ears already, and not wanting to make it worse.

Alfred, for his part, looked as though a million tons of weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Yeah?" he breathed in relief. "Oh man, that's... that's awesome, dude!" Gratefully, he handed Arthur the jersey, who instantly held it to his chest protectively.

"My pleasure," he said with a smile.

Alfred grinned. "Well, I'm, uh, I'm gonna go ahead and get to bed. Big game tomorrow, ya know."

Arthur nodded. "Right, right. Best be off."

"Uh-huh."

They continued staring at each other, until finally, Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, goodnight."

"Right!" Alfred chirped, running a hand through his hair. "Right, right! G'night, Artie! See you tomorrow!"

Arthur waved as Alfred disappeared into his room, only daring to move once Alfred was safely inside. Stepping back into his own room, Arthur carefully closed the door behind him and took a deep breath.

On one side of the wall, Alfred pumped his fist into the air in silent celebration, while Arthur hugged the jersey to his chest and silently squealed on the other.

O

Alfred was gone already by the time Arthur woke up the next morning, so he opted to try to keep his mind off the impending game. He made himself a bowl of cold cereal and tea while he watched the weather forecast on the telly (bloody freezing, as he expected), went online to check his e-mail, and then finally, allowed himself to get dressed.

He started off with a layer of his running spandex, then his thickest jeans, two pairs of wool socks, a long sleeve shirt, a fuzzy jumper, his tracksuit jacket, and finally...

Alfred's practice jersey.

He was blushing just looking at the thing.

Fairly certain that just wearing it would keep him warmer than twenty layers of clothing, Arthur slipped the jersey over his head, and shyly glanced at himself in his mirror. His red face stood out against the blue of the jersey and the green of the 50, accenting both.

"Arthur?" Matthew asked, sticking his head into Arthur's room. "Are you ready to- Oh!"

Blushing even deeper, Arthur spun away from the mirror in an obvious attempt to make it look like he was not, in fact, swooning over the jersey in the mirror, and glared at Matthew. "Bloody hell! Don't sneak up on me like that!" he snapped.

Matthew smirked knowingly. "Sorry about that, eh. Are you ready to go? Kat's waiting in the kitchen."

"Yes, yes, just a moment." Arthur threw on a hat and some mittens, and with one last subtle attempt to admire himself in the mirror (which Matthew pretended not to notice, because he was a nice guy like that), they were out the door, headed to the stadium.

O

The stadium and the surrounding area were already brimming with people by the time the trio arrived, and Arthur found himself grateful that they lived on campus and didn't need to find parking.

Katyusha lead the boys into the stadium and to their seats in the student section. Arthur noticed a few curious glances sent his way, but no one made too big of a deal, so he ignored it. He wasn't the first guy to wear another guy's jersey, and he could only assume that no one quite realized which player's jersey he was actually wearing.

That, or everyone knew _exactly _whose jersey it was, and no one was remotely surprised, but Arthur chose not to think about that.

The cheerleaders cheered and the band played as the speakers blared with the announcers telling bits and pieces of updates as to what was going on down on the field. A remote-controlled, flying camera, Arthur knew was piloted by Kiku somewhere, flew over the field and bleachers, playing the footage on the large screen above the scoreboard.

Compared to a normal game, there were certainty more people, and much more energy in the air, as to be expected when playing their biggest rival, but Arthur was grateful for the extra body heat. Even if it meant his peers were even more annoying, drunk, and loud than usual, even he had to admit the nervous excitement was contagious.

He wondered if Alfred was nervous as well.

"Hey guys!"

The small group turned, spotting an excited looking Tino and a rather defeated looking Roderich climbing up the stairs. They waved, moving aside so their teammates could join them. Arthur tried not to stare at the large 46 draped over Tino's small frame, or the rather tight 7 that graced Roderich.

"You guys excited for the game?" Tino asked excitedly. "I sure am! I'm so glad we're playing at home this year, too. I mean, I wouldn't miss this game for the world, and I went to last year's at Southern, but it was so much more convenient to be here, right?" He turned to Arthur, his eyes lightening up when he noticed what he was wearing. "Is that Alfred's jersey? How exciting! Is he excited for the game? Or is he nervous? I know Berwald has been talking about it nonstop for the past week!"

Somehow, Arthur found that doubtful, but he forced a smile and a nod anyway. "Fairly excited, I'd wager," he replied. "I haven't spoken to him much this past week, to be honest. With the extra practices and everything."

Tino nodded with a grin, then turned to Roderich, who looked down his nose at him, clearly unimpressed. "What about Elizabeta?" he asked. "How was she feeling about the game today?"

"I have no idea," he scoffed. A delicate hand fiddled with the fabric of her jersey, as a traitorous blush dusted his cheeks. "As long as she doesn't kill herself, I tend not to worry."

"Understandable," Katyusha giggled. "Liz can take care of herself." Roderich blushed and turned his nose back into the air, signaling the musician no longer wanted to talk about his football-playing girlfriend.

Finally, the commentators announced that the game would be getting started. Southern Tech took the field, to the chorus of light cheering and loud booing, until the World University team ran out from the tunnel as well. The crowd erupted, even Arthur, whose eyes had yet to stray from number 50 from the moment he emerged from the tunnel.

Somehow, even if he couldn't see the number, Arthur knew exactly which padded, helmeted player was Alfred. Francis would probably say something about it being because of _true amour,_ or some such nonsense, but Arthur attributed it to simply spending a lot of time with the other boy, and that was it.

The team ran around a little, bumping helmets, chests, and fists, before half of the team took to the sidelines and the others took their positions. Sadly, Alfred was part of the group that was not on the field, which meant they were on defense (see? Arthur had learned something!) and he had to wait to see him in action.

Elizabeta (distinguishable by the big 7 on her chest, and the fact that she was a good head shorter than every other player) kicked the ball out to the other team, and the game got underway.

Without Alfred to watch, or any idea of what was actually going on, Arthur honestly found the whole thing quite boring, and found himself watching Gilbert and the other crazy and shirtless members of the cross country team shouting obscenities at everything that moved far more than the game itself. Thankfully, Matthew, sweetheart that he was, attempted to at least give him a bit of insight through his commentary.

"So, now that they've tried three times to get to that bright orange marker there, they have to chose to go for it one more time, or kick it and let us have a go," he explained. "And it looks like they're going to try for it!"

The crowd broke into cheers of "_dee-fense!_", and then held their collective breath as the ball was snapped, thrown, and- A whistle blew and yellow flags flew.

"Looks like pass interference," Tino said with a small pout. Arthur scrunched up his nose in irritation.

"And that's a _foul?_" he asked incredulously. "What the bloody hell are they supposed to do? _Not _interfere with a pass? Just let the bloke _have_ it?"

"It does not make any sense to me either," Katyusha admitted with a shrug.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I will never understand this game."

Southern had the ball for a few more minutes as Feliks and the other cheerleaders kept spirits up until the ball was finally surrendered over.

_Finally_, Arthur thought as the offense prepared to take the field. Alfred's beautiful form jogged out to its place, and Arthur stood just a bit straighter, glad to finally have something worthwhile to pay attention to.

They hiked the ball to the quarterback, Alfred's good friend Travis, who paused as he looked for an opening. He found one in Berwald (Tino cheered exceptionally loud as the pass connected), but he was quickly taken down by one of the opposing players, gaining only a few yards in the process.

The next play was a short throw down the field, and Arthur felt his heart skip a beat as Alfred made the catch. It was as if he was transported through time, to the time of battling gladiators and jousting knights, watching his champion fight for victory.

"GO ALFRED, GO!" he cried, his hands subconsciously clutching his jersey, and his face weighed down with nervous excitement and worry. All Alfred had to do was get to the orange thing, Arthur thought furiously to himself, his eyes trained on that green number 50 and nothing else. Just get to the orange thing, he could do it!

He was brought down by a rather large defensive lineman, three yards passed where he needed to reach, but was up rather quickly, to Arthur's relief.

"Oh thank goodness," he breathed as Alfred was helped up by a teammate. The crowd cheered around him, and he found himself blushing and proud somehow, to be wearing the jersey of the man they all cheered so enthusiastically for.

"I don't think I've ever heard you cheer at a game before, Arthur," Tino said brightly.

Arthur cleared his throat. "W-well it is a big game after all," he grumbled, adverting his eyes. Unbeknown to him, Matthew and Katyusha smiled at each other knowingly.

"He's just showing his support for his little hero, eh Arthur?" Matthew snickered, pulling at the sleeve of the jersey. Arthur's coughed out indigently.

"_What?_"

"Aww!" Katyusha cooed with a giggle. Arthur glared at her traitorously.

Tino laughed, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Aw, Arthur, don't be embarrassed, it's totally normal to be proud of your significant other!"

"_He's not my significant other!_" Arthur cried out.

"Right Roderich?" Tino continued, ignoring him.

Roderich, who was sitting at the end of the bleacher with a small pile of sheet music and a pen, glanced up briefly before waving them all off. "Right, right, sure."

Arthur huffed, crossing his arms and deciding stubbornly that he officially hated all of his friends.

The game carried on rather uneventfully (with Arthur keeping his cheering to a minimum because, again, he hated his friends), both teams evenly matched and keeping the points relativity low. By the fourth quarter, with a score of Southern Tech at 21 and World U at 17, it was obvious that the payers were getting a little anxious. World U needed a touchdown to win, a field goal wouldn't cut it, and the pressure was beginning to show through both team's sloppy playing. Late hits and unnecessary roughness calls were made almost every play (though Arthur would argue not nearly enough every time Alfred was hit. He didn't care what Matthew said about that not being the way the call worked, those hits look far too unnecessarily rough to him) as the clock ticked away.

A short time-out was called by World U, and when the team returned to the field to thunderous cheers and applause, Arthur found himself saying fuck-off to the sneers and jeers, and clapped along with them. The play was called out, the ball was snapped, and the players took off down the field. Travis hesitated for just a moment before pulling his arm back, and lobbing the ball deep into the end zone.

_Of course,_ Arthur thought with a groan as he tracked the ball's course through the sky. It was headed directly toward Alfred.

Alfred, who was heavily guarded by a Southern Tech player about three times his size, both in height and width.

Arthur bit his lip and held his breath, too nervous to do more than chant quietly to himself, a soft mantra of "Please catch it, please catch it, _please _catch it..." as he watched Alfred flex his hands to do just that.

O

He knew the ball was coming right at him. He also knew, if the hulking figure blocking out sun for nearly the entire end zone was any indication, that he was heavily guarded.

That didn't matter though, the only thing that mattered at that moment was getting his hands on that football, and the little blond dot sporting a bright green 50 that was standing in the bleachers, watching him. He took a deep breath, dug his feet into the ground, and jumped, stretching his hand into the air and grasping the ball with all of his might.

His feet hadn't yet touched the ground when he felt the weight of the bulky opponent slam into him, sending him crashing to the ground with a loud thud that seemed to echo through the stadium. He was painfully aware of the hardness of the astroturf, the knee digging into his stomach, and a helmet loudly smacking into his. He was even more aware of the additional weight piling on top of him, and the hands grasping desperately for the ball, but he clenched his teeth and held on as tight as he could.

Finally the whistle blew, drowning out the gasps and "ooooh"'s of the fans, and signaling that the other players could _get the fuck off of him _already.

Apparently, time had run out somewhere between his catching the ball and crashing into the ground, because the moment his teammates and the refs saw him holding the ball and announced the touchdown, the entire stadium erupted into thunderous applause, whooping, whistling and hollering. Alfred was swept up into hugs, his back and helmet were slapped, until Travis ripped it off of his head to ruffle up his sweaty hair.

Elizabeta made the extra point at some point, successfully ending the game with a score of 24 to 21, and this was apparently the signal for the fans to lose their minds, as they began leaping over the railing and storming the field in a giant wave of green and blue.

"Great job out there Alfred!"

"Good work, Jones!"

"Congrats, Al!"

Alfred smiled and thanked all of the people who came up to congratulate him on the win, all the while, keeping his eye out for one specific person. Sure, he wasn't exactly the type to go storming the field with the rest, but maybe, just this once-

"YOU STUPID, IDIOTIC _GIT!_"

Ah, there we go.

Arthur pushed his way through the crowd, before launching himself into Alfred's chest and beating it lightly. "You're so _stupid!_" he exclaimed. "This _game_ is stupid! What were you thinking? He could have _crushed _you, you wanker! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

Alfred blinked back, holding his arms up in surrender and amusement as Arthur berated him. Travis, who had his arm around his girlfriend, smiled at him sympathetically, but Alfred just shrugged. He knew he would get his congratulations as soon as the shock of his nearly impending death wore off.

Sure, it wasn't as romantic as some of the other couples out of the field (Tino and Berwald, for example, were so freaking adorable they were giving people cavities), but out here, getting his ass chewed out by Arthur, after winning the biggest game of the year while his roommate wore his jersey?

Well, call him a masochist, but he couldn't think of anything better.

* * *

><p><strong>Whew! Sorry for the long wait, you guys! I hope this makes up for it! :)<strong>

**Some stuff I wish I could have gone into more detail with: Liz being on the football team, Gil and the other XC boys being half naked and annoying and eventually getting kicked out of the game, the fact that Ivan plays the tuba in the marching band, Arthur, Ludwig, Feliciano, Antonio, Kiku, Romano (And to be honest, most of the other countries XD) being football *coughsoccercough* buddies, Feliks being a cheerleader, etc. Maybe next time!**

**Anyway, I've talked enough. Hope you've enjoyed, and don't forget to review!  
>-Car<strong>


	19. Taste of Defeat

Alfred- Sophomore

Arthur- Junior

* * *

><p>As soon as Arthur saw Alfred rip off his spikes, he knew something was wrong.<p>

It had been an important race. The 4x4 team had been working all season to hit that national qualifying time, and to be completely honest, no one had any doubts they would. It was the best group of guys they had ever had; Sadiq, a senior, Antonio a junior, Alfred a sophomore and Im Yong Soo, a freshman. They were a dream team, a combination that could never be put together again.

And as Alfred stormed off the track, Feliks holding Toris back behind him, he knew that they didn't qualify.

Toris gave him a desperate look as he passed, which he returned with a small smile. "Would you go and get my medal for me, Toris? I don't think I'll be attending the award ceremony."

The Lithuanian bit his lip but nodded, following Feliks back to the team camp in the middle of the small, indoor track. Arthur took a deep breath and opened the door to the locker room Alfred had fled to as quietly as possible, almost cringing as he was met with the slightly echoing sound of sniffs and choked back sobs.

"Alfred?" he called, cursing his voice for breaking. Immediately, the crying stopped.

"A-Arthur?"

Arthur smiled, despite himself. That boy was so transparent; even if he hadn't heard him crying he would still be able to tell by his voice. "Yes, it's me. May I come in?"

"Oh, um, uh..." There was a bit of ruffling around and a sharp clearing of the throat before Alfred finally responded. "Yeah, come on in, dude."

Arthur slipped into the room, unsure why he was trying to be so quiet anymore, but doing it anyway. As he turned the corner, he saw Alfred sitting on a bench behind a row of lockers. The top of his uniform had been pulled off his shoulders, the straps hanging uselessly at his sides, his chest left bare. His eyes, as expected, were puffy and red, and his hair sticking out wildly, from the mixture of abuse from his hand and cooled sweat. Arthur was positively aghast at the sudden wave of affection he felt for his roommate, and fought himself from running over and simply taking him into his arms.

"Oh, love," he sighed instead, not even caring that he let that endearment slip out.

Alfred instantly straightened up, wiping at his eyes. "Uh," he said, refusing to meet Arthur's gaze. "I'll, um, I'll be out in a sec, okay? I just...I need a minute."

"Of course," Arthur replied, leaning against the wall, just out of his sight. He knew Alfred probably wanted him out of there, but for some reason his feet wouldn't move.

"I know you're still there, Artie."

Arthur smiled and peaked around the wall. "I didn't want to leave until I knew you would be be okay."

Alfred smiled sadly with a little sniff. "You're gonna miss the awards ya know. You guys won the DMR, didn't you?"

"I think this is a bit more important." Arthur pushed off the wall and sat on the bench next to Alfred with a sigh. He still wouldn't look at him. "Would you like to talk about it?" The younger boy shook his head, but the quiver in his lip told Arthur otherwise. "Alfred?"

Finally he broke. "Damnit Arthur," he sobbed, resting his elbows on is knees and his face in his hands. "We were so, so fucking close!" he exclaimed. "This was it, man. This was _it! _If I would have just ran a little faster, just one fucking tenth of a second faster and we would have had it!" He slammed his fist into the bench. "And now we don't have a fucking chance."

Arthur's heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces. "I'm sure Coach will take you all to the Last Chance meet next weekend," he offered, placing a comforting hand on Alfred's knee.

Alfred laughed bitterly. "We trained to peak_ today,_ Arthur. Anything we do next week will just fucking suck in comparison."

Arthur sighed. He knew Alfred was upset, and that he would just argue with any words of comfort he tried to offer. As far as Alfred was concerned, he didn't deserve any comfort- he had failed, and deserved to be treated as a failure.

It was one of the few things Arthur absolutely couldn't stand about him.

"You're _young_, Alfred," Arthur tried, tracing small circles on his knee. "You're a sophomore. You have two more years ahead of you, not to mention the whole outdoor season. I know it's easier to qualify for indoor, but you're so talented, I'm positive you'll-"

"You think I'm upset I didn't qualify?" he interrupted, catching Arthur's eyes with his own pained ones. Arthur blinked in surprise.

"W-well, _yes_," he said, confusion obvious in his voice. "Why else would you be?"

Alfred breathed deeply, a sure sign to Arthur he was trying to keep himself from crying again. "Arthur, this is Sadiq's _very last chance_ to go to nationals," he explained. "The guy has worked his _ass _off for four freaking years, and now, when he finally has a chance to get the thing he's worked all these years for, I blow it." He took another shaky breath and ran a self-conscience hand through his hair. "_I know_ I'm young... _I know_ I'll get there eventually... I just... I wanted to do this for him."

Arthur had stayed silent as Alfred spoke, but as Alfred couldn't hold his tears back anymore, he also couldn't hold himself back any longer. "Oh Alfred," he sighed soothingly, wrapping his arms around the younger boy and holding him close, shielding him from the world so that he could finally let his walls down. He cried silently onto Arthur's shoulder, who in turn, rubbed his back calmly.

"I know, love, I understand," he whispered. "Sadiq doesn't blame you, he knows you worked your hardest; all four of you did. Shhh, hush, now. It's okay. You still have time, next week and all through outdoor. I'm sure you'll qualify."

He continued his sweet nothings as Alfred calmed himself down, only stirring once the award ceremony started loudly outside the locker room.

"I know you didn't qualify, but you _did_ win," Arthur reminded him, as he got up to check his appearance in the mirror. "Did you want to go accept your medal?"

Alfred wiped his eyes on some toilet paper and nodded. "Yeah, but I wanna look normal before I go out there," he said sheepishly.

Arthur smiled, nodding as well. "I'll wait with you."

They sat together, discussing the results of the meet, until Alfred's relay team was called to accept their gold.

* * *

><p><strong>Kind of a short one, but I wanted to get this one out before I wrote the next one. This has actually been sitting in my documents since like, last year, I've just never gotten around to actually finishing it. XD<strong>

**The next chapter is going to possibly be a multi-parter, because it's the team's trip to NATIONALS! :DDD (spoiler alert, I know.) Soooo it's gonna take me while to write it, but it should be a good one.**

**ANYWAY, Hope you all had a good holiday season! :D  
>-Car<strong>


	20. On the Road to Nationals

**Alfred- Sophomore**

**Arthur- Junior**

* * *

><p>"And we couldn't get a bigger vehicle, <em>why<em> exactly?"

Coach Germania's eyes met Arthur's in the rear-view mirror, clearly just as unimpressed about driving thirteen hours in a minivan with a bunch of college kids as he was. "The football team used up too much of the school's transportation fund on their trip to Arizona."

Alfred at least had the decency to look ashamed when the entire rental van turned to glare a him. He blushed and shrunk back into his seat. "Sorry?"

Everyone let out a collective sigh.

"I don't see what everyone is so upset about," Elizabeta, who had played the girl card, thus getting herself the passenger seat, said with a shrug. "I'm perfectly comfortable."

"Fuck you, Liz," Gilbert, who was squished in the backseat between Ivan and Roderich, seethed. "Fuck you so hard."

Germania glared through the rear-view mirror once again. "Gilbert, watch your language."

Alfred gazed out the window longingly. Maybe he was imagining things, but he was pretty sure he saw confetti coming out of the car Rome and Mama G were driving. The car that contained all of his relay-mates. "They're having so much fun in there," he moaned. "Curse my heroic tendencies. Dude, did you guys even feel how comfortable the seats in that car were? It felt like my ass was being cradled by clouds. And I gave it all up so that Mama G could be comfortable." He hit his head lightly against the window. "I've change my miiiind! Take me baaaack!"

"Do shut up," Arthur snapped. "And would you please _move!_" he cried, shoving Francis away from him on his other side. "I know for a _fact_ you have more room over there than you're using, frog!"

"Aw, _mon cher,_ a perfect _derriere_ like my own needs space to breathe!" he cried, wiggling around in his seat.

Arthur growled and scooted closer to Alfred. "Well, if your slimy leg touches mine one more time, your _derriere_ will need space to _bleed."_

"Oh my god, Sadiq just sent me a text saying that they're eating cannolis, and listening to 80's rock," Alfred moaned. "_I _want to eat cannolis and listen to 80's rock!"

Roderich clicked his tongue, flipping through his musician's magazine with flourish. "Three days before the biggest race of your life is a horrible time to start eating such fattening foods," he replied with a haughty sniff.

"Dude, I've been eating fattening food all season."

Germania rolled his eyes. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"I have noticed that you have gained the weight," Ivan piped in with a smile. "I would not have said something, but this makes sense!"

Alfred spun to face him with a murderous snarl. "You're one to talk, fatass!"

"I swear to god, Frenchie, you touch my leg one more time-!"

"I cannot help existing, _rosbif!_ Trust me, I would not touch you if I had a choice!"

Germania gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. It was going to be a long thirteen hours.

O

It was roughly around hour five, shortly after stopping for lunch at Subway, that majority of the athletes in Germnaia's van fell asleep. Thank _god._

At that point, the only conscious members were himself, Elizabeta, who was typing furiously at her laptop, having unplugged the GPS (without asking him, or course) in order to charge it; and Ivan, who continued to stare out the window with a blissful, happy expression on his face.

Gilbert and Alfred were snoring loudly, Francis and Roderich looked annoyed at the snoring, even in their sleep, and Arthur had curled himself into a little ball, resting as inconspicuously on Alfred as he could. Even with the snoring, it was as quiet as the van had been all day, and he was determined to enjoy it.

"So, um," he coughed, glancing at Elizabeta out of the corner of his eye. "What are you writing? A paper?"

The girl spared him one, scandalized look before turning back to her screen with a scoff. "Sure." She smirked. "You could say that."

Germania chose not to ask and continued to focus on the road. Some things were better left unknown.

O

Around hour eight, after everyone had woken up, and Alfred had been moved between Francis and Arthur to quell the fighting, Rome's voice piped in from the walkie-talkie he had insisted they keep around for communication.

"_Ciao_, car two! This is car one! How are we doing back there?"

"_Wunderbar,_" Germania growled, deadpanned. "How much longer until the exit?"

"Ahaha..." Rome laughed nervously, and Germania could almost picture him scratching embarrassingly on the back of his neck. "We actually missed the exit... some twenty miles or so ago. _Scusa!_"

Germania moaned and hit his head against the steering wheel, swearing that as soon as they were able to turn around, he was going to take the lead.

O

Three hours from their destination, Mama G insisted the team stop for some dinner so they could relax once they got there, and Rome suggested a take-out Italian place on the way. It was for the best, as at least half of the athletes in the van had complained about needing to use the restroom, and Germania was rather in need of a pit-stop himself.

"I hope they have chicken Alfredo," Alfred mused, bouncing in his seat. Arthur and Francis glared at him for his bouncing, but he had been doing it for the last hour (when he loudly announced his need to urinate), and they had given up trying to stop it.

"Marinara sauce is much healthier for you," Roderich informed him knowingly.

Alfred crinkled his nose. "Sure, but Alfredo is tastier. What _is_ it with you today, dude? You ain't my dietitian."

"Considering we are headed to _nationals_, I simply assumed you would be interested in being healthy for once in your life," he said with a shrug. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I think it would be too late for that," Ivan added with a smile.

"Aw, F you, Braginski."

Germania pulled into the parking lot, and within seconds of parking, the team poured out of the van. "Try to keep your meal under five dollars!" he cried after them, as they pushed each other out of the way to either order or use the bathroom first.

Arthur tripped Francis, while Gilbert hopped on Ivan's back and urged him forward like a horse. Alfred rushed over to his relay mates from the other car and used them as reinforcements, and Elizabeta and Roderich hooked arms and walked in a leisurely pace, as she had no competition for the bathroom, and Roderich was much too mature for the other's shenanigans.

Nearly forty minutes later, as they loaded themselves back into the vehicles, the team was well-fed, some were even still eating, and officially one hundred fifty dollars poorer.

So much for five dollar meals per person.

O

"Okay everyone! Listen up for room assignments!"

The team moaned, dragging their pillows and bags with them to the grass in front of the dorm that was to be their home for the next three days.

Outdoor nationals were nice, in that the school that hosted them was cleared of students for the summer, and was able to house the athletes in the empty dormitories. This cut down on lodging expenses, as well as expenses on transportation and food for the schools, as the cafeteria was free for all coaches and competitors.

Rome held ten keys in one outstretched hand, with a list of roommates in the other as he waited for Gilbert and Yong Soo to wander over to them across the parking lot. "Okay," he began, once they got there. "We got lucky, our building has suite style rooms that hold three, so you'll only have to share a bathroom between six of you, rather than a whole floor."

The team chatted excitedly, until Germania held up his hand to shush them. "We picked these rooms for a reason," he grumbled, "and we expect that you'll be in them when we need to find you. You are welcome to explore the campus, but you'll have a strict curfew of ten o'clock as long as you are competing."

There were a few irritated mumbles from the team, but for the most part, they kept their mouths shut.

"And now for roommates!" Rome chirped. "Room 341A will be Alfred, Antonio, and Gilbert. Room 341B will be Sadiq, Yong Soo, and Ivan. Across the hall in room 342A will be Roderich, Arthur, and Francis. And room 342B will be Elizabeta."

"Why the hell does she get her own room?" Gilbert exclaimed, pointing at a rather content looking Elizabeta.

Mama G glowered down at him. "Get over it, Gilbert," she snapped, which successfully shut him up.

They hiked up the three flights of stairs, ("For serious? No elevator?" "You are worried about having heart attack, maybe?" "Oh my god, _shut up,_ Braginski!") and down the hall, until they reached their rooms. Francis glanced behind him to make sure the coaches weren't coming, and quickly pulled his key out of his pocket.

"_D'accord_, Alfred. Let's switch," he whispered.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur snapped.

Francis held his hands up defensively. "It was just an idea! I do not wish to room with you, you do not wish to room with me, and Alfred, I am sure, would be much happier with you than _ces deux." _He pointed behind himself, where Gilbert was making farting sounds with his armpit, and Antonio was laughing along.

Alfred made a face. "Yep, sold," he replied simply, happily exchanging his key. Arthur's face burned.

"Now you wait one bloody second!" he cried. "I _will not _get in trouble over this! If the coaches find out, and I let it happen, I'll-"

"Aw, c'mon Artie," Alfred interrupted. "The coaches wont figure out, I promise!" He leaned down, leaning in close and whispering so only Arthur could hear. "Please don't make me room with those guys, dude. I need my roomie! I've nervous enough about this whole thing as it is without you to calm me down."

Arthur, despite himself, blushed up to his ears. "F-fine," he gave in with a small huff. "But only because making anyone room with any portion of the three stooges would be a crime."

Alfred beamed. "Awesome! Thanks, Artie! You're the best!"

"Yes, yes, belt up. Don't make me regret this!"

As they unlocked their doors and started loading in their things, the group exchanged knowing smiles behind Alfred and Arthur's back. Sometimes it was just too easy.

O

"Okay!" Alfred exclaimed, clapping his hands and surveying their room. "Let's see what we've got here!"

Three beds; one of which was bunked on top of another, three dressers, a sink, a rather large window, one door that lead to a surprisingly tiny closet, and another door that lead to what they assumed was their shared bathroom with Elizabeta.

It didn't take long for Elizabeta to invite herself into the room through the bathroom, knocking only once before popping her head in and grinning widely. "Hey guys! Bathroom looks pretty nice, I think-Hey!" she cried, pushing the door open and storming over to Roderich's half-unpacked bag. "What are you doing?"

He blinked. "Unpacking?"

"Not in here, you're not." With one motion, she scooped up his things and tossed them over her shoulder. "There is no reason for me to have a room to myself when _you_ are here. We're _dating_, after all!"

He stared after her as he marched back through the bathroom, as if trying to figure out where his belongings disappeared to all of a sudden. "E-Elizabeta! Wait!" He exclaimed, running after her frantically. "That is exactly why we _shouldn't_ room together!"

As the door slammed behind him, Alfred and Arthur's eyes met across the room, both painfully aware that they would, more than likely, be rooming together.

Alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Welcome to Nationals! This will be a multi-chaptered arch, obviously, so this chapter kind of works as a transitionintroductory chapter to just kinda set the stage and let you get to know the team just a bit better. :)**

**Alfred and his relay team from the last chapter qualified for the 4x4, Arthur qualified in the 1500, Francis in the pole vault, Gilbert in the steeple, Liz in the shot and disc, Ivan in the shot and hammer, and Roderich in the high jump, so it'll be a pretty well-rounded group!**

**Until next time, have a great day! :D  
>-Car<strong>


	21. Nationals: Day 1

Arthur and Alfred stared at each other for a few long, tense moments, the silence of the room weighing down on them.

While they had lived together for almost two years now, it had been a nearly a year since they had lived in the same room. Though they shared the common areas of their on-campus apartment, they still had separate rooms, so it was actually very little like living in their shared room that first year after Alfred had started school.

Arthur gulped, inwardly willing Alfred to break the sudden tension like he usually did, but he seemed to be too busy staring wide-eyed at the bathroom door where Roderich had just been dragged through to help him out.

So instead of breaking the silence himself, he turned to his bag and began unpacking.

It took Alfred almost to the bottom of his bag to finally clear his throat and laugh a little awkwardly. "H-hey, just like old times, huh?" he asked, just a bit too perkily.

Arthur nodded. "Y-yes, I was just thinking the same thing."

"This'll be good!" Alfred chirped, now tossing his bag onto the bed closest to the window (just like old times), and started haphazardly tossing things out. "You'll be able to keep me from staying up too late, like you used to! And I'll make sure you actually get up in the morning!"

Arthur smiled wistfully, glad his back was facing Alfred so he couldn't see the way his cheeks were, with no doubt, pinking slightly. Waking up to Alfred gently shaking his shoulder after a few dozen hits of the snooze button _was_ something he rather missed this last year. "I don't suppose you've kicked that annoying sleep-talking habit, have you?"

Well _that_ didn't sound creepy or stalkerish or anything, Arthur thought to himself with a groan. Luckily, Alfred just laughed.

"No idea dude, you'll have to tell me! Though," he paused his unpacking, and the overall uneasiness exuding from him was enough to make Arthur check on him over his shoulder, "I doubt I'll be able to sleep deeply enough to do it with how nervous I am." He bit his lip, adverting his eyes.

Arthur's heart melted. "Nervous about the race?"

Alfred nodded. "Like, I know it's really not that big of a deal. It's not like we're trying to qualify for something or anything, but like, this is _it_, you know? This is the end!"

Arthur nodded, because he _did _know. As silly as it was to be nervous about something that really didn't mean anything besides bragging rights, it was a big race, and there was no telling if you would ever get a chance to run here again. He was lucky to have a second chance after last year's disaster, but others certainly weren't as lucky...

He quickly forced his mind off that topic. No need thinking about the past, after all.

With a small, reassuring smile, he turned to Alfred confidently. "Well, don't put yourself into a tizzy yet, lad. You don't run for two days still."

"True. Better get some good sleep these next few nights while I can!"

They finished their unpacking and tucked themselves into bed, Alfred promising to set his alarm for the both of them the next morning.

O

"_Guten Morgen_, team."

Coach Germania scanned over the cafeteria table the kids had been gathered around, analyzing their appearances. Alfred, Yong Soo, and Sadiq were digging into their breakfasts like a pack of wolves, Gilbert and Arthur looked about ready to fall asleep in their cereal, and Elizabeta looked about ready to kill the first person to talk to her, so it was a fairly routine morning.

"We have a lot to cover, so listen up," Germania began, handing a stack of papers to a rather heavily-eyed Rome for him to pass out. "After breakfast, we have a little down time before practice at noon. The track is only open from noon to four for all the competitors, so I want to get there early in case it is crowded. It's going to be warm, so I expect each of you to be drinking _viel_ water."

He handed another stack of papers to Mama G. "Here is the schedule of events for the next three days of competition. As you can see, Ivan, Liz, Arthur, and Gilbert compete tomorrow, Liz, Roderich, and the 4x4 team compete on Friday, and Ivan, Francis, Arthur, Gilbert and the 4x4 compete on Saturday, assuming you all make finals.

"Now, a quick note for the runners." He turned to Gilbert and Arthur. "I know you two are not used to running prelims, so we have to play Friday carefully. You will be tempted to rest, I'm sure, but that much time not running will make you sore. And to the relay, you are slotted to run at eight-thirty at night on Friday, and six o'clock on Saturday. Do _not _over exert yourself during the day. Save your energy, it will be unusual for you to be running that late without anything before hand, so we have to be _smart._"

At that, Germania sat with Rome and Mama G and left the kids to their breakfast. Francis clapped his hands, and beamed at the rest of the table.

"So, _mes amis_, what shall we do until practice?" he chirped.

"Go back to fucking sleep?" Arthur mumbled, aggressively buttering a piece of toast.

Gilbert shot his hand into the air, his head still resting on the table. "Seconded."

"Aw guys, c'mon, let's do something fun!" Alfred chirped, tearing himself away from his waffle to grin sunnily at the rest of the table.

"Sleeping is fun," Elizabeta grumbled.

Francis shook his head. "_Non, non!_ We need to do something. It is our last day to enjoy ourselves!"

Arthur scoffed. "_I _would enjoy going back to sleep."

After roughly twenty minutes of alternating eating and arguing, they decided to explore the campus, then go back to their rooms to rest until practice. While exploring, they found a sand volleyball court (Antonio, in particular, was excited about this), the pool, and a student center, complete with coffee shop, ice cream shop, and barber shop.

Alfred and Yong Soo took turns climbing on (and thoroughly disrespecting, in Arthur's opinion) the school's various statues and sculptures, and in the end, the whole team was chased by campus security for trespassing while trying to stop Ivan from picking half of the school's prized flower beds, losing Roderich for ten solid minutes in the process.

By eleven, the team was ready for a break, and gladly returned to their rooms to wait for Germania to drag them to the track.

Alfred fell onto his bed moments after entering to room, grunting as he picked up his laptop from the floor, flipping it open and letting it load. Arthur followed in a similar fashion, collapsing face-first into his bed and sighing in relief.

Alfred chuckled. "Tired?"

"Exhausted," came the muffled reply, as Arthur slithered himself up to the pillow and under his blanket. "Wake me up at half past, would you?"

"Sure thing," Alfred replied. "Couldn't sleep last night?"

The tips of Arthur's ears pinked from under his messy hair, and he shoved his face deeper into the confines of his pillow. "Y-yes. I need to adjust to the new bed is all."

Well, _that_ was weird, but Alfred chose not to question it. Instead, he set his phone alarm for eleven thirty and opened Facebook, deciding to use this last hour of free time to be truly productive.

O

"Go, Sadiq! Stick!"

Alfred felt the whoosh of air blow at his bangs as Antonio handed off the baton to Sadiq that afternoon at practice. The team was spread around the track, the field athletes off doing their thing with Mama G and Germania, the distance runners on a leisurely mile long jog around the track, while he and the rest of the relay practiced handoffs under the watchful eye of Rome.

"Ah, not bad! Better! Antonio, don't forget, you'll be much more tired after your 400, so you wont be coming in so fast. Try it again! Sadiq, stay on your toes until he gets to the mark!"

Alfred sighed out of boredom and ran an impatient hand through his hair. Who knew how long it would be until he and Yong Soo got a chance to practice, he could be standing around forever! Finally, he decided to at least stretch while he waited, and flopped himself onto the ground.

It didn't take long for his eyes to find Arthur and Gilbert across the track (Gilbert's bright rainbow umbrella hat made it nearly impossible to miss him, after all), and for them to come to a comfortable halt on Arthur.

He was wearing those sinfully short shorts of his again, and that stupid sweatband, but that thing was gross, so he focused on his legs instead. Even when he was loafing around at a snail's pace, he looked majestic, and Alfred found he loved him for it just as much as he resented it.

"Enjoying the view, _cher_ Alfred?"

Alfred jumped, his cheeks flushing as Francis smiled knowingly over him, leaning casually on his pole. "Uh—um—"

He smirked, obviously enjoying watching Alfred scramble, the dick. "_Ouiii?_"

"Shut up."

"That is what I thouught!"

Alfred's cheeks puffed up in irritation, and he returned his attention back to his relay. Yong Soo and Sadiq were practicing now, which meant he would be up soon. Probably for the best, if he was completely honest.

"Ah, Alfred," Francis sighed, tapping his pole with his pinky finger. "Do not hide your feelings! Young _Rosbif does_ look tolerable in his attire, if—" He cut off, and the sudden silence caused Alfred to turn to him in curiosity. Francis' eyes were wide, trained on a spot down the track at the end of the straightaway. "_Merde..."_ he cursed, dropping his pole and taking off down the field.

"Wha—Francis! Wait!" Glancing back to make sure he wouldn't be missed for a few more minutes, Alfred took off after him.

Arthur and Gilbert had stopped running, he noticed, and it was over to them, he and Francis were headed. A small cluster of runners were forming around where the distance runners had stopped, and Alfred squinted into the sun, trying to see what was happening. Unable to make anything out, he ran just a bit faster.

"-ut the fuck up, you twat!"

"Oh? Is little bitty Artie Choke-land going to make me?"

"You bet your arse I will."

Alfred and Francis arrived right as Gilbert was rolling up his sleeves and spitting out some angry words in German, stepping threateningly next to Arthur to confront their attacker. The boy was taller than Arthur, but not quite as tall as Alfred, though much slimmer. His hair was reddish brown, and held back away from his freckled face with a green bandana.

He smirked unpleasantly at Francis, who managed to catch Gilbert and hold him back right as he was about to strike, and snorted. "Oi, Francis. Long time no see. Here to come to Art's rescue again?"

Arthur's face darkened. "Why you—!"

Alfred jumped in and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder is an attempt to calm him down, and thankfully that seemed to do the trick. He glanced at Alfred over his shoulder briefly and relaxed just a little, though his fists stayed clenched at his side.

"Graham," Francis mused, having wrestled Gilbert behind him and out of trouble. "While it is always a pleasure, why don't we save this little feud for the race, where it belongs?"

But "Graham" wasn't paying Francis any attention. His eyes were trained on Arthur, and he was still smirking that irritating little smirk.

"This your new bum buddy, Kirkland?" he asked flippantly, nodding in Alfred's direction.

Alfred could feel Arthur's anger before he even saw him stiffen up and clench his jaw, and it was nothing short of a miracle when Rome managed to launch himself between the two boys before Arthur could do something he would regret.

With a deafening cry of "_HEY!_" Rome was staring Graham down, as he kept Arthur at bay with his elbow. "That's _enough,_" he sneered, and Alfred couldn't help but he amazed at how completely and utterly terrifying their usually mild mannered coach could be. "_Smettere_, Kirkland," he hissed, leading him away from the scuffle with a tad more force than necessary, "Are you _trying_ to get yourself disqualified?"

Gilbert and Francis gave Graham one last warning glance, which he returned with an arrogant, smug wink, as the World U team returned to their dorms, officially done with practice for the day.

O

"So, who was that guy?"

Francis sighed, leaning back on his bed and resting his head against the wall. "An old _friend_ of Arthur's."

Alfred pursed his lips. "I'm sensing some heavy sarcasm."

Francis chuckled. "They ran for the same school back in England," he explained, "Arthur was always better, so when Graham graduated, he made it his personal mission to beat him and make his life miserable. Last year at nationals, Arthur was ranked first going in the trials with Graham right behind, but, well, we know how _that _race went, _oui?_"

Alfred winced. Indeed he did. Arthur, quite the rebel back in the day, spent a bit too much time partying the night before the prelims, and ended up in dead last the next day. It was the moment that prompted some serious discussions between Arthur and the coaches, and Arthur was put on some serious probation until he could straighten himself out.

"It was brutal," Francis said with a sigh, "and Graham was not helping. He came up to Arthur immediately after the race to gloat, and they nearly got in a fight until the coaches and I stepped in. I would chance to say it was one of the worse days of Arthur's life."

Alfred nodded, letting this new information sink in. "And he's running against this punk tomorrow?" Francis nodded.

"And tensions are going to be _high."_

* * *

><p><strong><em>TO BE CONTINUED! <em>**

**Heeey guys! Sorry this took so long, my life has been absolute hell on wheels these past few months, so I've been dealing with more important, life/adult shit, but here I am! Keeping fingers crossed for some good news in my future! :D **

**Just for fun, you should all check out my tumblr: seecarrun. I post some drabbles, and snippits of this story on there, and it'll give you a good picture at my life and thus likelihood of anything getting updated, so that's helpful! XD **

**Hope to see you guys there, and as always, thank you so much for reviewing!  
>-Car<strong>


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